Who's Your Daddy?
by California Kat
Summary: Set at the end of True Blood, Season 4, what if it wasn't Tara whom Debbie Pelt killed? What if it was Sookie? (A vampire-Sookie story and a re-imagining of Season 5)
1. Chapter 1: Talking to the Dead

**Who's Your Daddy?**

**Summary:** Set at the end of _True Blood_, Season 4, what if it wasn't Tara whom Debbie Pelt killed? What if it was Sookie? (A vampire-Sookie story & a re-imagining of Season 5)

**Context:** Sookie has just left Eric and Bill at the end of Season 4, telling them that she can't be with either one of them. But she doesn't linger at Bill's door very long. Instead, she visits Gran's grave. Instead of the fairies coming for her, an old foe shows up.

**Beta: **Kleannhouse ("the magnificent")

**Inspiration: **Recently, I snagged one of Sephrenia's banners for adoption.

**Disclaimer: **All publicly recognized characters, images, lines of dialogue, and plot lines are the sole property of their creators. I own only my own imagination as it involves the characters I love; however, even my imaginary constructions would be impossible without _True Blood_ and the _Southern Vampire Mystery_ series. My work is not-for-profit and intended only for the enjoyment of the writer and readers. No copyright infringement is intended.

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><p><em>You know I can't-can't-eat a bite<em>

_And I can't sleep at night_

_'Cause you got me doin' things_

_That you know ain't right_

_Don't criticize me, save me_

_'Cause whatever I am you made me_

_Whatever I got you gave me_

_Whatever I am you made me_

_Whatever I got you gave me_

—from Nina Simone's "Whatever I Am (You Made Me)"

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><p><strong>Chapter 01: Talking to the Dead<strong>

"Gran, why do I keep messin' things up? No matter what I do, I hurt people," Sookie Stackhouse said as she sank to her knees next to Adele Stackhouse's grave. "I didn't want to hurt either of them; I love them both!" She buried her face into her hands. "I'm just so fuckin' confused," she cried.

Sookie's mind felt more chaotic than it had ever been before—even more than when her parents had taken her to a huge New Orleans hospital when she was only five years old. She cringed as she recalled the assault of so many brains upon hers that day. She'd ended up in a corner—crying and rocking back and forth—in the doctor's office.

She'd been trying to process the thoughts of hundreds of sick, hurt, and dying people—even as she'd been bombarded by the worry and the grief of their loved ones. And—of course—the members of the hospital staff had a variety of thoughts too—some mundane and some incredibly anxiety-inducing. Sookie saw blood in their thoughts, wounds so angry-looking that they crept into her nightmares for many years.

At that age, Sookie had built no defenses—no shields.

She was unprotected, and her five-year-old mind was unarmed against things that most adults would have found harrowing.

And, of course, the doctor had pronounced her mentally disabled. That particular doctor had diagnosed her as autistic.

Sookie sighed and pushed away the nightmarish memory of that day. At least her parents hadn't left her at the hospital. They'd had their faults, but they'd not abandoned her to the care of the doctor whose thoughts had screamed out that he wanted to "study her" since her case was so "unique."

Though her mind wasn't being inundated this time—due to the fact that her shields were tightly in place—the rest of her felt a multitude of assaults.

Her very soul felt battered; with all the people who'd tried to kill her—beings belonging to five species by her count, actually six if witches were counted as a different kind of being—she no longer believed that "safe" was a possibility for her.

And her heart felt so tight—so suffocated—as it tried to keep itself from shattering into a million pieces.

She'd rejected Bill, her first love, the vampire who'd given her an opportunity to experience love—when she'd never had that chance before. So many things about him had been wonderful. He was handsome and possessed "old-world" manners that had made Sookie feel special to be noticed by him. Best of all, he was a mystery.

But that mystery had cost her so much! Because of not being able to hear his thoughts, she'd been such easy prey to him. Even as she'd defended him so staunchly—loved him so completely—he'd been manipulating her.

Sookie hated Bill so much for all of his lies. And part of her hated him even more for actually falling in love with her—which made it so difficult for her maintain that animosity. And she hated herself—hated herself for still loving him too.

The old saying was wrong. There wasn't a thin line between love and hate. There was no line at all.

Pulling from the other side of her heart was Eric Northman: one-thousand-year-old Viking and vampire sheriff. He was, perhaps, even more manipulative than Bill. Bill's motives, at least, had belonged to his "boss." Eric had manipulated her into taking his blood because of his own selfish wants.

He'd wanted _her_—that had been clear from the start. So, at least, he'd been "honest" about that. He'd wanted her body and her blood and the use of her telepathy.

He'd wanted an asset—with benefits. A piece of ass that came with the added bonuses of tasty blood and a useful ability.

Plus, Sookie was convinced that Eric secretly liked being slapped on occasion.

Or—maybe it wasn't so secret.

She laughed hysterically at the absurdity of her train of thought—laughed so that she could stop crying for just a moment.

Eric had become good at helping her feel a little "lighter." She'd give him that.

The odd thing was that her feelings for Eric—and her opinion of him—had begun to shift in Dallas, even _before_ she'd had his blood.

But mostly they'd altered _after_ he'd manipulated her into—quite literally—"biting the bullet," and that's why she wondered if she could trust those feelings.

Despite what he'd done to Lafayette, she'd recognized his loyalty to his maker. Moreover, as he'd interacted with Godric, Sookie had seen the love that he'd denied being capable of so vehemently.

Also, she'd witnessed him put his own safety below hers multiple times now: in the Fellowship church, in Godric's nest as the bomb had gone off, handcuffed to Russell Edgington, from his knees in front of Marnie's coven.

And many times in between, Eric had kept his eye on her in a way she'd failed to notice at first. Of course, all of these 'sacrificial' moments—except for maybe the latest of them—were not simply acts of sacrifice. No—Eric tended to have multiple motives for his actions, and her safety had just been one of them. But that didn't change the fact that he'd saved her multiple times—and in multiple ways.

But hadn't Bill behaved similarly—even more recklessly willing to sacrifice himself for her? Hadn't he faced the sun in order to try to save her from Rene—as useless as that had ended up being? Hadn't he protected her from Longshadow? Hadn't he also tried to protect her many other times—even going so far as to kill his queen and to try to kill Eric in order to protect her secrets?

Like a pesky weed whose root system hadn't been completely pulled from the ground, her affection for Bill had reemerged. And that reemergence begged a question that Sookie couldn't and wouldn't ignore: How much of the recent softening of her heart towards Bill—her desire to forgive him—been motivated by the fresh infusion of his blood in her? The last time she'd spoken privately with Eric, she'd not been exaggerating her fears. She truly did wonder if all of her affection for the vampires in her life had come from their blood being in her.

She couldn't help but to feel that she had very little control over her life.

In so many ways, her life had always been about gaining control. And each gain had been so difficult—or had come at such a high price.

It had been Sookie who'd begged her parents to take her to Gran's house on that Friday afternoon that would mark the final day of their lives. Jason had been spending the night with a friend, and Sookie had desperately wanted to be alone with Gran, whose mind was so much easier for Sookie to be around. Moreover, Sookie had been slowly learning how to construct shields, but she could do it only when it was just Gran around. And she'd wanted to practice.

She'd gained a little more control over her shields that day. It had cost her two parents.

Gains and losses.

Gaining love. Losing trust.

Perhaps most pathetic of all, feeling love from Bill and then from Eric had given Sookie a self-confidence she'd never owned before. To have someone _want_ her? It had felt so nice!

Of course, that self-confidence was crushed along with the rest of the lies she'd been living.

The truth was simple: she couldn't really trust Bill or Eric because she couldn't trust herself.

Why had they wanted her? Why did they _still_ want her?

Sookie sighed. Despite all of her mixed and over-taxed feelings, there were certain things she knew as truths.

She loved Bill.

She loved Eric.

She didn't fully trust Bill and likely never would.

She _wanted_ to trust Eric, but she had run from him instead.

In fact, she'd walked away from _both_ vampires, even as she'd recognized that she'd likely just sentenced herself to a life of being alone.

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><p>THREE HOURS EARLIER<p>

Debbie Pelt stood by the graveside of Cooter, the Were she'd been supposed to marry. Unlike Alcide, Coot had accepted her wild-side without asking her to apologize for having it! Hell—he'd encouraged that side of her.

He'd given Debbie her first taste of V and had shown her how to live without inhibitions.

After she'd gotten back together with Alcide, Debbie had denied herself in so many ways. One of those ways was that she didn't let herself visit Coot's grave, which was located in the little town of Vicksburg near the border of Louisiana and Mississippi. Coot had grown up in Vicksburg, but none of his family was left, so it had been Debbie who'd made sure he had a gravestone, though she'd kept that a secret from Alcide.

She was now looking at that simple stone for only the second time. She'd asked for it to give his full name and the years of his life. And she'd paid a little extra for it to say, "Beloved Husband," even though she and Coot had not yet had a chance to get married when Alcide had shot him. Debbie cringed a little, thinking of one of the men she'd loved killing the other.

But she didn't blame Alcide—not really. The fault lay elsewhere.

Debbie opened the second vial of vampire blood she'd bought earlier that evening. The V was potent; it had either been taken from an old vampire or it had been "on the shelf" for a while, for V only grew in its potency if it wasn't used immediately.

Taken directly from the source, the blood would give only a short high. When allowed to age, it was like a fine wine.

The Were downed the vial and threw it onto the ground next to the one she'd taken a few minutes before.

She felt the drug surge through her; it warmed her. It made her stronger. And—best of all—it stopped her from _feeling_.

Cooter's death no longer mattered.

Alcide's rejection no longer mattered.

Her failure to stay off of V didn't matter.

_Nothing mattered_.

In fact, she had nothing left that _could_ matter, and only one person was to blame: Sookie's Stackhouse.

And pay she would.

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><p><strong>AN: Y'all are probably out there saying, "What the hell is Kat doing starting yet ANOTHER story? I know—I know. But I swear, there is ****no abandoning**** happening. **_**Burn out the Pain**_** will keep coming (you got a chapter earlier today—right?), and **_**Uncharted**_** will continue too, but it won't be coming quite as fast b/c I'm still working on the tail end of the third part of the **_**UN**_**-iverse trilogy. I have only 30,000 words written for that one, and it will need to get to about 100,000 before the story is over. But I'm still working on it. Don't worry. And the next part of the **_**Gift Horse**_** series is still in the queue.**

** If you really want to know who to blame about the new story—it's Sephrenia. She made a banner for adoption that I coveted for ****many hours**** before I snatched it up. And—from that banner—**_**Who's Your Daddy?**_** is arising. **

** I'm going to do this story a little differently from my others, however. I'm going to post chapters as I go, using this story as a "break" when I'm feeling writer's block with the others—or just "going with it" when the muse takes me there. I am counting on beta-magic being worked by Kleannhouse to help the continuity, and there will likely be more typos in this one than my usual since I might not be as meticulous about its revising and editing, but I think it will be a fun "release." I hope you like it too! **_**Inner**_** is still my Season 5 "canon work" (which I hope to go back to pretty soon), but this story is going to be my Season 5 rewrite that I've been contemplating doing for a long time. Who else thinks that the whole Authority thing could have been SO MUCH BETTER? Whole else thinks that it was wasted potential? Do I see other hands raising? I hope so! I am going to offer you my vision of Season 5 in this work. I hope that you will like it. Stay tuned for more of this and more of my other stuff!**

** Thanks to everyone who continues to read and follow my work. Y'all are the BEST!**

**Until chapter 2,**

**Kat**

**P.S. Not enough thanks can be given to the "muse" for this story, Sephrenia, who spurred me with her banner, and Kleannhouse, who is always so generous with her time. You two are lovely and giving human beings, and—though we operate together in a "virtual world"—you are treasured in my everyday world.**

**P.S.S. Be sure to visit my WordPress site to see the banner that inspired the story (the whole banner is a spoiler). **

**californiakat1564. wordpress. com**


	2. Chapter 2: Breakable

**Chapter 02: Breakable**

_Have you ever thought about what protects our hearts?_

_Just a cage of rib bones and other various parts._

_So it's fairly simple to cut right through the mess,_

_And to stop the muscle that makes us confess._

_And we are so fragile,_

_And our cracking bones make noise,_

_And we are just,_

_Breakable, breakable, breakable girls and boys._

_from "Breakable" by Ingrid Michaelson_

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><p>"Nan Flanagan is going to be a problem," Bill said with a sneer.<p>

"_Your_ problem," Eric returned.

"_Sookie's_ problem. Or have you forgotten that Nan saw Sookie use her light; therefore, even if she's not sure what Sookie is, she knows she's _something_."

Eric sighed. "Fuck Sookie," he said bitterly.

"You cold, bastard. You'd just leave her helpless—exposed! You were _never_ worthy of her," Bill seethed. "You didn't deserve her love!"

The king was against the wall in the next moment, being held by the throat by a very angry Viking.

"You will not speak of Sookie's feelings for me," Eric said coldly. "You know _nothing_ of what we were to one another."

"I know that you'd just discard her—leave her in danger!" Bill growled out.

Eric pushed Bill roughly to the floor and took his disposable phone from his pocket. Sometime between being cursed by a witch and having amnesia, he'd lost his own phone.

He dialed a number that he knew by heart, even as he zipped from Compton's office so that the "king" couldn't hear him.

"Hello," a female voice answered. Eric would know that voice anywhere. She'd retained her English accent, though it had become more refined over the years.

"Are you in a secure location?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Sister—that favor you owe me?"

"What favor?"

"The one about me making sure Godric turned you," Eric said with a smirk.

"That's the big one," she responded.

"I know."

"It must be important."

"It is. I need you to kill Nan Flanagan for me."

There was a pause.

"It's not that she isn't a bitch, brother, but are you going to tell me why you want her dead?"

"No," Eric responded quickly.

She sighed. "It matters not. I will see this done for you," she promised.

"Thank you," he said, trying not to give her a hint of his relief.

"How are you?" she asked.

"Fine," he lied. And then he told a little truth—to one of the only two beings to whom he couldn't really lie. "I miss Godric."

"I miss him too," she said quietly. He could barely hear her over the phone.

"Take care of yourself, Nora," he said, going to hang up.

"Wait," she whispered. "There are things going on here, Eric, in the Authority. There is a group called the Sanguinistas, who wish to turn humans into cattle. One of their ranks tried to recruit me not long ago, but I told her that I had to think about it. She is stronger than I—and I am in no position to tell Roman about her. I do, however, know that the Sanguinistas have been trying to find Russell Edgington."

"But he's gone," Eric asked stiffly.

"I hope so, Eric. But there are rumors that you only incapacitated him—that you left him to suffer."

"Why would they want him?"

"They think he will make them invincible. They see him as their figurehead—their folk hero—given what he did on national news." She sighed. "I don't know what you did with him, and I don't care. I know you gave his fangs to the Authority, but the leader of the Sanguinistas is not convinced that he's gone. I think she may have a spy in Area 5. Just—watch yourself, brother."

"I will," Eric promised. "I always do."

"I know," Nora said with a chuckle.

Eric hung up and then crushed the phone in his hand.

He was just getting ready to go tell Compton that Nan wouldn't be a problem when he felt a spike of fear: Sookie's.

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><p>"Bill Compton—what have you fucked up this time?" came Nan's caustic voice.<p>

"Nothing," Bill said defensively.

"Oh—come now," Nan chuckled, a smirk in her voice. "You _never_ call just to chat. I'm sure you've fucked _something_ up. The witches are gone. What now, Bill? Trolls? Another Maenad? The fucking Grinch? Did he steal Christmas, Bill?" she laughed.

"You cannot talk to me like that. I am the King of Louisiana," Bill snarled.

"Don't forget _how_ you are king—and who made you king. It would take me only one phone call to have that all taken away."

Bill held in his derision. "As a matter of fact, I called you with excellent news. Not only has the leader of the coven been killed, but also the necromancer-spirt who had taken her over has been fully contained."

"Congratulations. You've done your fucking job—_finally_. What do you want? A medal?" Nan intoned.

Again, Bill held his temper.

"Northman has become a problem," Bill said instead.

"Why? He's not tryin' to take your girl—is he, Bill?" she drawled in an exaggerated Southern accent which mimicked Bill's over-the-top intonation.

"What are you talking about?" Bill asked.

"Sookie Stackhouse. I think it's about time you and I had a frank talk about _what_ she is," Nan said.

"Of course. I hold nothing back from you, Nan. You know that," Bill vowed.

"I'm sure you don't," Nan said sarcastically—skeptically. "I'll be there very soon."

"How soon?" Bill asked, though she'd already hung up.

He looked at his phone.

"Bitch," he sneered out, just before he felt a surge of fear.

Sookie.

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><p>Sookie had her shields up, but that didn't stop her from picking up danger. Call it instinct.<p>

Call it experience.

She dropped her shields and heard the gnarled thoughts of a transformed Were, though the thoughts were even more mangled than usual for the beasts. The mind was probably twenty feet from her, and—though Sookie knew it was futile—she ran in the direction of home.

She recognized that the Were brain belonged to Debbie Pelt even as paws pounded into the dirt behind her. She screamed as loud as she could, but was thrown to the ground a moment later. She tried to turn toward the body of the wolf now hovering over her—tried to shoot her with her light. But it was as if Debbie anticipated what Sookie would try to do and avoided her attempts.

The Were bit into Sookie's neck savagely, severing the telepath's carotid artery.

Blood spewed out.

Sookie felt warm—feverish—and then she felt cold.

Very, very cold.

And then she knew. She was going to die—and die soon.

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><p>"Don't!" Eric yelled as Bill went to peel the dying wolf's locked jaws from Sookie's neck. If Debbie hadn't obviously been high on V, she would have likely felt her pain and transformed back into a human as she died. But Eric doubted that Debbie was feeling anything.<p>

The Viking had severed her spine.

Bill looked up at Eric incredulously.

"The bitch has bitten into Sookie's carotid artery," Eric said calmly, clearly in battle mode, though his eyes betrayed his sorrow. "If you unlock the Were's jaws or finish her off and cause her to shift, Sookie _will_ bleed out."

"I'll give her my blood," Bill said.

"You couldn't do it fast enough," Eric sighed.

"Then _you_ could do it," Bill insisted. "Your blood is stronger than mine."

Eric sighed, and—though his countenance remained steady—a single red tear streaked down his cheek.

"You know it wouldn't be enough."

"Both of us then," Bill said. "We could _both_ give her blood."

"We'd buy her only a few minutes," Eric sighed. "She wouldn't heal before she bled out."

Bill was on his knees next to Sookie. The Were bitch was lying on Sookie's other side, attached to the telepath's neck, her mouth a seal over the wound she'd inflicted.

"Then I'll turn her," Bill said.

"No!" Eric returned. "Sookie wouldn't want that."

"I don't care what she wants!" Bill cried out. "She _has_ to live! I need her."

"I need her too," Eric said evenly. "But not at the sacrifice of her _choice_. She told me that she didn't want to be a vampire—_not ever_. And I know she told you the same! I hate it, but we have to respect her wishes."

"I don't care!" Bill said again, even as he went to move the Were again.

"I _won't_ let you do this," Eric said.

Bill growled. "Then—uh—we will ask her. Sookie may change her mind knowing that she is near death."

Eric sighed. "She is unconscious."

"I will take away the Were's mouth and then begin applying blood to Sookie's wound topically," Bill said. "You can give her blood orally at the same time. That might buy us enough time to get her to wake up!"

"But—if we do that—she will likely have already lost enough of her own blood and had enough of ours to make her a vampire—no matter what," Eric cautioned.

"I know that!" Bill said with affront. "I'm not an imbecile! But if she can become conscious enough to give permission, I'll complete her turning. And you can have your clear conscience," Bill spit out.

"And if she refuses?" Eric asked.

"Then we stop giving her blood, and I will stake her—just to be sure."

Eric looked at the younger vampire warily. "And if she doesn't revive enough to tell us one way or another?"

"The stake," Bill said desperately. "I swear it!"

Eric frowned, but nodded.

He'd been given a choice moments away from his death that he'd never regretted making, even though his choice might have been very different if Godric had offered it to him when he was healthy.

The Viking quickly dropped to his knees. He brought his wrist to his mouth and bit before placing it over Sookie's mouth. At first she didn't take in anything, but then he massaged her throat a little. He felt her swallow. However, the bond they'd started was weakening, despite the fact that she was now taking in some of his blood.

He looked at Bill and nodded.

"Be quick," Eric said. "Snap the bitch's jaw and get your blood onto Sookie's wound as fast as you can."

Bill glared at Eric. "I know what to do," he said petulantly.

Eric sighed and looked down at Sookie's pale face. For once, he didn't have any idea what to do. The woman he loved was going to die. And he felt within his soul that she didn't want to be a vampire—didn't want to be like him.

But he wouldn't let her die alone—wouldn't let her die without another moment of life. Without another look into her eyes.

Maybe he was selfish for that, but he'd never denied his selfishness.

The heart he'd tried to deny for a millennium would no longer be denied.

It broke as he prayed to long-forgotten gods that her eyes would open one last time.

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><p><strong>AN: Thanks to everyone who's "favorited" and "followed" this story on ff. net! And thanks to all the commenters! Your words and well-wishes are so appreciated.**

**Hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

**Until the next one,**

**Kat**

**Be sure to visit my WordPress blog for the story's art by Seph. She did the story banner, chapter banners, and character banners! (californiakat1564. wordpress. com)**


	3. Chapter 3: Sleep

**Chapter 03: Sleep **

_**From my rotting body, flowers shall grow and I am in them and that is eternity."—Edvard Munch**_

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><p><strong>KLEENEX WARNING!<strong>

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><p>Sookie's eyes were lead weights, and she couldn't feel her body, but she had been able to hear many of the words that Eric and Bill had spoken. She'd tried to nod in agreement when Eric had reminded Bill about her wish not to become a vampire. She'd tried to shake her head in denial when Bill insisted that they try to give her a chance to change her mind.<p>

The truth was that life had already been hard enough for Sookie, and—though she'd never contemplated killing herself—she didn't want to imagine living lifetime after lifetime after lifetime with her curse.

She was already thinking of heaven, already wondering if she'd been a good enough person to get in—wondering if God would give her the gift of silence.

She wondered if she'd be able to see Gran again, wondered if she would forgive her for Rene.

She wondered if her parents would be there. Would they be able to love her—finally?

Or maybe there was just a great big nothing after death—_nothing_ but feeding the worms and fertilizing the ground. The greatest silence of all.

Maybe that would be _her_ heaven. She wanted to reach out her arms to welcome it, but she couldn't move.

Like most other humans, Sookie had given the possibility of immortality some thought after vampires had come out of the coffin, but she'd quickly dismissed the idea.

What would becoming a vampire do to her telepathy?

Would it make it stronger?

Once she'd met her first vampire, she'd reconsidered. What if being "dead" made it impossible for her to hear the thoughts of the living—just like being alive made it impossible for her to hear the thoughts of the "undead?" That possibility had tempted her to change her mind about the idea.

However, what if becoming a vampire allowed her to hear the only beings she _couldn't_ presently hear—in addition to everyone else?

That possibility had made the risk too great to take.

Plus, she just didn't want to live forever. Maybe that made her odd, but that wasn't her greatest oddity.

She felt Eric's blood being soothed down her throat and recalled the last time she'd drunk it—in the cubby.

That moment stood out to her as one of her best. It had been the only vampire blood she'd taken when she wasn't being coerced or when she wasn't hurt.

She'd chosen it _and_ Eric in that moment. She found it ironic that—as she lay dying—she was thinking clearly for the first time in a long time. She wished that she could go back an hour. She would tell Bill that they'd already had their chance. And then she would turn to Eric and tell him that it was time for their chance to begin.

Yes—_that_ is what she would change if she could change anything in the life that was flashing before her eyes.

But time travel wasn't possible—not even for a fairy-human hybrid who'd "missed" a year of her life.

Sookie groaned. She'd thought that she'd been past pain until she felt Debbie's teeth being pried from her neck.

She whimpered as she heard Debbie's body get thrown away from her.

"Sookie!" Bill said desperately. "Please let me save you!"

She might have nodded had she not already known what kind of "saving" he had in mind. He wanted to turn her.

"Please," she managed. She'd intended to say, "Please—_no_!" but she'd simply run out of steam.

"See—she wants to be turned!" Bill cried out. "Wants me!"

Sookie tried to shake her head, but she couldn't because Bill's hand was holding her neck in one spot as he was applying his blood to her gushing wound.

Sookie tried to say more—no—to _yell_ more! To stop Bill. But nothing came from her mouth but blood.

She opened her eyes to meet Eric's concerned blue stare. She saw the track of a single tear on his cheek. He'd cried for her. If she'd had any strength, she would have brushed that tear away; she would have tried to comfort him.

But she couldn't muster up any strength in that moment; instead, she tried to focus enough on Eric's eyes to convey that they should just let her go.

Let her die.

"Do you not feel that?" Eric asked as another tear streaked down his face. "Do you not feel her asking us to let her die as a human?"

"She's just scared!" Bill said insistently.

Sookie lost her focus on Eric and had to close her eyes again. She was too weak to do anything else. The pain had left again. And the cold was back. But her telepathy was still going strong.

In fact—like some kind of cruel joke—it was somehow stronger than ever. And she could make out thoughts within her range perfectly even as she felt herself dying.

She would have laughed bitterly at the irony of that if she'd been able.

Of course, her gift would strength in the moments right before she died! It was the ultimate kick to the gut, and—for the millionth time—Sookie wondered what wrongs she'd committed in a past life in order to deserve her curse in this one.

Hopefully, that question would soon become irrelevant as she became a fertilizer.

Meanwhile, however, with her "gift," Sookie heard several minds converging on her location all at once. Alcide was one of them. He was coming from the service road at the back of the graveyard. His mind—though usually hard for her to read—was screaming out in horror. And his thoughts were as clear as a bell. He smelled her blood—and Debbie's blood. Apparently, Debbie had left a rambling message on his answering machine—basically a suicide note and murder confession all in one.

How lovely.

Debbie's mind was still alive too. She was scared and weak, and she couldn't move. Eric had snapped her upper vertebrae in two, and she was helpless.

_And sober_.

She felt her pain and knew she was dying. Served the bitch right in Sookie's mind.

From her house were running Tara and Lafayette. They'd heard her scream and had called Jason before coming. Lafayette had Gran's old shotgun. Both Tara and Lala were petrified.

And—from Bill's home—several vampires were running their way.

Of course, Sookie couldn't _hear_ them, but their "voids" were clear as a bell, and she recognized one as belonging to Jessica and another as belonging to Nan Flanagan. The others were strangers to her.

She wondered about being able to recognize the vampires from their voids. It was a new skill which apparently accompanied copious amounts of vampire blood or major blood loss. Or both.

Sookie thought about the light in her—the fairy light that had somehow un-cursed Eric. She thought about the odd feeling—that odd 'space'—she'd had inside of her ever since that evening in the cubby when she and Eric had exchanged blood. She thought about what she wanted the last moment of her life to be like.

And—by instinct—she flooded that 'space' with all of her remaining life. All of her remaining magic.

Her spark.

She opened her eyes.

Eric's eyes were waiting to greet her. His ears were ready to hear you. And he was obviously holding off Bill from completing his turning of her.

She found her voice. It was weak, but it was there.

"Eric," she managed, "I love you."

"I love you," he returned.

"I don't want to be vampire."

He nodded.

"Then sleep, my love. _Just Sleep_. I have you."

"You'll stay with me?" she gasped out.

"For as long as it takes," he promised.

Her eyes conveyed her gratefulness. And then she closed them.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I know that this one is shorter than most of my chapters in other things, but—like I said—this story is gonna be a little different, and the chapter lengths are just gonna have to shake out like they shake out.**

**I hope you still "liked" it. I will admit that I cried a lot when writing this one. It's literally a "life passing before her eyes chapter," and Eric just breaks my heart every time!**

**Until the next one, **

**Kat**


	4. Chapter 4: Love Is Immortality

**Chapter 04: Love Is Immortality**

"_**Unable are the loved to die, for love is immortality."—Emily Dickinson**_

Sookie was gasping out her last breaths when the beings converging on the small group from three sides arrived.

"What happened?" Tara Thorton yelled out, even as Eric pushed back Compton so that he couldn't give more blood to Sookie.

Bill's fangs were down and his purpose was clear. He wanted to turn Sookie, but Eric wasn't about to let him—not after Sookie's wishes had been made crystal clear. Truth be known, she was likely already going to turn—given the loss of her own blood and the large amount of vampire blood inside of her. But Eric would _not_ let her be taken to ground. He would not let the process be completed.

He would make sure that the day found her body in the sun, so that she could lose herself in its warmth one last time.

"Oh, God—Debbie!" Alcide Herveaux cried out, skidding to a stop and kneeling down beside the Were-bitch. "You've killed her!" he yelled toward Bill and Eric.

"Your bitch attacked Sookie!" Bill yelled out.

Eric heard the cock of the shotgun Lafayette was carrying, a shotgun pointed his way.

"Typical," Eric muttered, waiting for the force of the buckshot to hit him and hoping it wasn't silver. The buckshot would hurt, but there was no way that he was going to let Sookie die away from his arms. No matter how difficult it was to feel her slipping away—more painful than any amount of buckshot—he wouldn't let her meet death alone. As angry as he'd been at her—as much as he'd wanted to despise her for rejecting him not an hour before—he loved her.

And love from a thousand year-old vampire—though stingily given—was not a thing that would end.

He could count the people that he'd loved during his long life on two hands—with Sookie being number seven.

Lucky seven.

He was thankful when the buckshot didn't bite into his flesh. Jessica had zoomed to take the weapon from Lafayette's hands. And she was holding back both of Sookie's human friends as red rivers found their sources in her eyes.

He was grateful to her—grateful that his focus could return to Sookie.

"Turn her!" came Nan's icy voice from fifteen feet away.

"No!" Eric yelled, looking up at the bitch and wondering why she was even there.

He shook his head as he realized that Bill had likely called her—with some kind of asinine plan to "take her out" in mind.

"I will do it!" Bill said desperately, crawling back toward Sookie and Eric.

Eric's growl stopped him in his place.

"Someone do it now!" Nan yelled. "I don't want to lose her as a potential asset!"

"No!" Eric said again, this time in a tone of cold, hard steel.

Nan nodded to the vampire storm-troopers next to her, and the next thing Eric knew, his chest was alit with little red dots, mostly concentrated over his heart.

"Their bullets are wooden," Nan smirked. "Now—let Bill turn her, or I'll have you turned into goo, and then he'll turn her anyway."

Eric's growl was low and menacing, but he also knew it was useless. From his position cradling Sookie's now almost-lifeless form, he could never kill all of the storm-troopers. And—if he was ended—Bill would have his way and turn Sookie.

He was in what was referred to as a lose-lose situation.

"Or maybe _I _should turn her," Nan said with a contemplative grin. "I've always wanted a fairy pet."

"No!" Eric yelled. "I will do it."

"Oh—I don't think so," Nan said.

"She's already had enough of my blood that I feel the spark of the maker-child bond forming," Eric said, more calmly, trying to sound reasonable.

"She's had my blood too," Bill insisted.

"I am the strongest here," Eric reminded. "And—even if Bill tried—he might not be able to countermand my bond with her," he said, speaking to Nan.

Nan sighed. "Fine. But if I let you finish, I will own your ass, Mr. Northman." she said to Eric. "_And_—you will bring her with you to the Authority, where I will make sure she rises _without_ your doing anything to jeopardize her completing her turn."

"No—I will take her to ground myself," Eric said. "You can, however, post guards to ensure that I won't harm her.

"I will let you stay with her at the Authority," Nan said. "But that's my final offer. Otherwise, I'll let the 'king' turn her. Or I'll do it myself and kill you for kicks."

"No! Sookie is mine! She should be my child!" Bill called out.

Eric glared at Nan. "I could kill you before your people even fired a shot."

"I know," Nan returned coolly, ignoring Bill. "But they'd kill you soon after," she said, signaling to her guards. "And then neither of us could stop the king for taking his prize." She sighed. "But—frankly—I don't want to die tonight. And I don't think you do either. Why don't we work together? She would be _your_ child, and that means that the Authority would need you to properly train her in our ways. You and I could draw up a contract of some kind. She'd be well-paid for any work she did for us."

"And I would be her liaison with the Authority?" Eric asked.

"Of course," Nan said.

"Then we have a deal," Eric said.

"You fucking bastard!" Tara yelled. "Sookie wouldn't want this!"

"Cold mother fucker," Lafayette muttered at the same time.

Alcide was still crying over his bitch.

But Eric saw no better way for Sookie than for him to become her sire—for him to try to protect her. And—significantly—he would have the power to free her. So—if she truly didn't want to remain a vampire after she rose—he wouldn't stop her from meeting the sun, even though losing her that way would flay him.

But he _wouldn't_ allow Bill to become her maker. He was too obsessed—too _obsessive_.

And there was no way in hell that he'd let Sookie become a plaything of Nan's.

So he would cooperate and play nice with the Authority until he could free himself _and_ his new child—even if Sookie hated him for what he was about to do.

He would take her hate—_for love_.

He nodded at Nan to seal their agreement.

Then Eric drained Sookie of most of her sparse remaining blood before biting his wrist and forcing his own blood into her once more. He felt the spark of connection between them flourish.

He nodded again at Nan. "It is done."

"Then come," Nan said, signaling for her men to make sure a now hysterical Bill kept away as Eric rose to his feet with his new child in his arms.

"Wait!" Bill called out. "I feel her—feel her as if she were my child!"

Nan looked at the vampire she'd helped to become king. "That's not possible."

"But it is true!" Bill said urgently.

Nan rolled her eyes. "I own you, Compton. You'd better not be lying to me."

"I'm not," he vowed.

Nan motioned toward one of her guards. "Put Compton in silver and bring him along. We'll soon see if he's being truthful, but if he is somehow Miss Stackhouse's maker too, Roman will be intrigued by the double-maker phenomenon, given the rareness of it." She looked sharply at Bill, "But if you are lying, your majesty, I'll stake you myself—just for being an annoying asshole."

"No!" Jessica yelled, letting go of Lafayette and Tara and surging forward to embrace Bill.

"It is okay," Bill soothed. "I am telling the truth. Sookie _is_ my child," he said, glaring at Eric. "I don't know how and I don't know if Eric is also her maker, but I feel her almost as strongly as I once felt you. I will be fine, but you must let me go—for your own safety. I command you."

Jessica nodded and moved back from him, even as two of Nan's guards placed Bill in silver.

"Will I need silver to keep you in line?" Nan asked Eric.

"No," the Viking said.

"If you make trouble, I won't hesitate to have you killed, and—then—where would that leave her?" Nan said, gesturing toward Sookie.

Eric nodded. "You have my cooperation."

Nan smirked. "I _do_ like cooperation." She walked over to Debbie Pelt, who was wheezing for air. "But I don't like bitches!" Nan took a pistol from her black leather coat and shot Debbie in the head.

Alcide growled, and Nan's answer was to let her fangs drop menacingly.

"Alcide," Eric cautioned, "Debbie Pelt attacked Sookie and is responsible for the events of this night. Mourn her if you must, but don't act in some kind of misguided quest for revenge."

"Why do you care, bloodsucker?" Alcide yelled out, his eyes yellowing.

"I don't give a fuck if you live or die, Wolf!" Eric snarled. "But Sookie would."

Alcide looked up at Eric, as well as the corpse in his arms, for the first time.

"Sookie," Alcide sighed. "I'm so sorry."

"If you truly are sorry, then don't be stupid," Nan intoned.

Alcide glared at the vampiress, but nodded.

Eric glanced at Sookie's sobbing human friends and then looked at Jessica. "Make sure they don't do anything else stupid, and make sure that Sookie's brother knows what has happened here," he said authoritatively.

"Jessica is _my_ child," Bill seethed, even as the silver chains scorched his skin. "You cannot command her."

Eric rolled his eyes. "I am only saying what Sookie would want, you fuckwit," he said under his breath, though almost every set of ears in the graveyard could hear him—including a set that no one was aware of.

A set belonging to a fairy.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks to everyone who is responding to and enjoying this story! So many of you are very opinionated about whom you want to be Sookie's maker. I hope that-even if things don't go **_**exactly**_** as you might want—that you don't give up on this work. I have a plan. **

**It might be a week or so before another chapter comes to you. Work—you know. And I wanna get another chapter of **_**Burn out the Pain**_** ready.**

**Until the next,**

**Kat**


	5. Chapter 5: Dealing with Authority

**Chapter 05: Dealing with Authority**

"_**Force does not constitute right... obedience is due only to legitimate powers."—Jean-Jacques Rousseau**_

"I've never liked you much," Nan said in her acerbic tone. "You're just so goddamned arrogant."

"I don't care much for you either," Eric said honestly, even as he cradled Sookie in his arms and held her close.

Nan chuckled. "And _that's_ why I like you. You don't dish out any bullshit, like that insipid Compton."

"But you just said that you _didn't_ like me," Eric reminded with a smirk.

"Well—that's where we're different. I _do_ dish out bullshit—all the fuckin' time. I'm good at it."

"Yes," Eric agreed, "you are—good at the bullshit."

Eric narrowed his eyes and examined Nan carefully. She'd won points in his book by making sure that Eric and Sookie (though Sookie didn't know the difference) were comfortable in the limousine Nan had come in.

And, even better, only Nan was riding with them in the back of the limo, and only one other individual—a Were driver—was in the vehicle. Compton had been unceremoniously shoved into the back of a black van—still wrapped in silver—and he was surrounded by "storm troopers."

Nan didn't seem concerned by Eric's study of her. With reluctance, he had to give her some credit: the bitch was unapologetic for her actions.

She shrugged. "To tell you the truth—I don't want to be your enemy, Mr. Northman. I think you could be useful to the Authority—to the Guardian. And there are rumblings that he might need help sooner rather than later. You are strong and well-respected among our kind—and you don't suffer from your maker's guilty conscience."

Eric growled at that.

"Don't get your panties in a wad, Viking," Nan sighed. "I'm not saying anything that's not the truth. Godric had been flailing for years—and you know it."

Eric growled again.

Nan put up her hand in a conciliatory motion. "You can't deny anything I've said. And I'm sorry about that—even if you don't believe that's true. I'd known Godric for centuries. Hell—three decades ago, I offered him the kingship of Texas, but he turned me down. If you asked me to name the five vampires I've respected most in my long life, your maker would be one of them." She scoffed. "At least, he would have been. But he _stopped_ being a vampire. You and I both know that. He would have let those Fellowship bastards hang him on a cross and burn him in the dawn's light! And for what purpose?"

"I don't know," Eric admitted with a whispered growl.

"I don't either," Nan said, her own voice softening. "But I've seen similar things happen to others—my own maker included."

Eric's eyebrows rose in question.

"That's right, Sheriff. I, too, lost my maker to despair and guilt. He was twelve hundred years old when he did it." She paused for a moment. "Nathaniel was the most important being in my existence, and, for many years, I felt like it was somehow my fault—like I should have done something to save him." She paused again. "But he had lived his fill—and one day, he stopped finding new reasons to keep going. For a long time, I was one of his reasons, but I suppose his soul wore out—even though his body never would have."

"He met the sun?" Eric asked.

"No. He asked me to stake him," Nan said. "He told me that—after so long—he was too afraid of the sun to meet it." Her tone turned almost hollow. "And I'd never known him to fear anything." She paused again—this time for several minutes.

"So you staked him?" Eric asked.

"Of course I did," Nan returned as if the question had been unnecessary. "I loved him. I would have done anything to make him happy—even though it tore me apart to do it."

Eric nodded, suddenly understanding and respecting Nan a lot more than he had earlier that night. She had a job to do. And her job gave her purpose. All vampires needed one.

Perhaps, now that Sookie's secret could no longer be contained, he would try to stop Nora from killing Nan.

"She didn't want this life," he said, holding Sookie's corpse even closer to his own un-beating heart.

"I know. I heard her. And I'm sorry I had to do what I did."

Eric studied the vampiress across from him. "I believe you. But why did you do it?"

"The Guardian, Roman, took me under his wing when I was about 300 years old—right after Nathaniel chose to leave this world. And he is being threatened by a rather insane faction."

Eric nodded. "And you wanted to use Sookie."

"Yes. And _you_—as well. When Compton called me tonight, I was already back in the area. Roman was impressed that you could handle Edgington—even _if_ you didn't kill him." Her own gaze was narrow in study, but Eric gave nothing away.

"Sookie will fight against what I've made her," he said, looking down at his new child. "She will attempt to kill herself."

"You could stop her—give her something to live for. I heard her tell you that she loved you," Nan said.

"But—once she realizes that I turned her against her will—she will no longer trust me. And love is _nothing_ without trust."

Nan sat forward. "You love her too; you trust her."

"Yes," Eric responded. "That is why I do not want to force her to stay in this life—this un-death."

Nan sighed. "I took a great chance letting you live and allowing you to complete her turning. And I _do_ believe that you are her maker, but I smell Compton in her too."

"I know," Eric admitted.

Nan sighed. "You know as well as I do that most of us weren't given a choice when we were turned."

"Were you?" Eric asked.

"Yes—yes, I was," Nan responded.

"Me too."

"Then this must be doubly difficult for you," Nan stated perceptively. "You love her and wanted to respect her wishes. _And_ you believe in choice."

Eric nodded. "But you took away my choice—and hers," he said pointedly.

"I am no simpleton," Nan sighed. "Miss Stackhouse is obviously a fairy—I'd say a fourth or an eighth. And I'm perceptive enough to know that she's either a psychic or a telepath, too."

"How many know your theory?" Eric asked.

"I'm loyal to Roman, and I told him, so everyone he trusts is aware or will soon be made aware."

Eric nodded with understanding. "So it was already too late to keep Sookie's nature a secret—even before tonight," he whispered.

"Yes," Nan responded. "Bill called me earlier, and I figured that you and/or Compton might try to kill me in order to protect the girl. That's why I came with such a large force. And there was additional back-up available to me too. If I had been killed, another team would have been right behind me."

"Sookie is a telepath—or at least she was," Eric said after a few moments.

Nan nodded in acknowledgement. "A rare gift."

"Sookie always thought of her telepathy as a curse," Eric said, tenderly soothing his child's matted and bloody hair. It was still soft and beautiful to his fingers.

"If she had no guidance as she grew up, I'm not surprised," Nan said. "Look—Eric—I'm not a heartless bitch."

The Viking looked at her skeptically.

She smirked. "Okay. Maybe I am, but not in situations like this. With your cooperation, we'll see what she can do once she rises. Perhaps, she will be free of her curse. Or—perhaps—it will be stronger. It is hard to know." Nan paused. "There have been other especially gifted vampires. And they are treated very well—and protected. Roman is not cruel. He's an asshole, but he's not cruel."

"She's going to hate me," Eric sighed.

"Yes," Nan agreed. "And—if my instincts are right—you are going to _let_ her hate you. And, because of that, I'll bet that she will come to love you again sooner rather than later. Bill, on the other hand, will try to make her love him. He might even try to compel her to do so—if he is, indeed, a co-maker to her. And she will end up despising him for it."

Eric narrowed his eyes as the van screeched to a halt in front of a warehouse on the waterfront in Port Arthur, Texas, which was—ironically—closer to Shreveport than New Orleans. However, it was well out of Louisiana territory.

Because of Nora, Eric knew it was one of the headquarters of the Authority, which rotated its location intermittently.

Nan leaned forward. "Give me one month," she said. "In that time, your new child might come to embrace being one of us, and she might find a place well-suited for her in the employ of the Authority. You, too, might find a place with us."

"What of my duties as sheriff?"

Nan smirked. "You and I are both _well-aware_ that you never wanted to be a sheriff. But—it was either that, or the Yakuza were going to kill you."

Eric growled a little. "I should have killed you back then—after the Yakuza killed Sylvie."

Nan sighed. "I tried to warn you—as soon as I heard the rumblings against you among those developing synthetic blood. It is not my fault that you were too arrogant to listen!" the vampiress said defiantly. "You can blame me all you want for 'your' Sylvie's death, but I didn't have to come to you in France. I was under no obligation to warn you or to give you a chance to change your behavior."

"Why did you? I'd stayed out of the power structure until then. You had no vested interested in me. Why did you come?"

"I already told you," Nan said.

Eric paused and then nodded with understanding. "Godric."

Nan nodded back. "Yes. Listen. From what I've picked up on, your new child is a hundred times more worthy than the French girl was—though she was very beautiful." The vampiress nodded toward Sookie. "In the Fellowship church and in Godric's nest, Miss Stackhouse helped to save lives."

"I thought you cared _only_ for vampires' image," Eric intoned.

"That is my top priority. It has to be. I tread a fine line every day, Sheriff. I have to be human enough to take on the likes of Steve Newlin on national television and vampire enough to keep those of our kind from going on bloody rampages _a la_ Russell Edgington. But—make no mistake—Miss Stackhouse impressed me when she was mostly human, and I have a feeling I'll be even more impressed with her as a vampire."

"Me too," Eric said.

"One month," Nan reiterated. "Convince Sookie to give this life a try for that long. After that, if she wants to go outside for a suntan, we won't stop her. And I know that _you_ would let her. But I want to see what she might do—what she might _be_. Don't' you want to see that as well?"

"One month," Eric whispered. "Are you sure your 'boss' will agree to what you are proposing?"

"Yes," Nan said confidently. "Roman is, as I said, pretty reasonable."

"The kind of asshole I will like?" Eric asked with a smirk.

"Exactly that kind," Nan chuckled, as she opened the limo door and stepped out.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hello all! Thanks for the continued response to this story! Many of you have had strong reactions to it, and I love eliciting those! Most of you like the avenue that I'm exploring. However, many of you have expressed wishes that Bill won't be Sookie's maker and others are a little wary of the co-maker idea—and that's okay because even if you don't like everything I'm doing, 99.9% of you are expressing your opinions and reactions constructively, respectfully, and NOT anonymously. **

**Please remember that I'm not a paid author, but—even if I was—no author writes a story that everyone likes. If this isn't your particular flavor of story, please be so kind as to "call it a day" and don't misuse the "guest" review option on ff. net just to insult me, my intellect, or my stories. It is your right to dislike my stories and to stop reading them. Should you choose to make that dislike known, you should sign in and offer your critique in a respectful manner. **(Sorry for the little rant, but I woke up to a very long and rambling performance of idiocy-anonymous, of course. Apparently, I'm a "hack" and a "rotted c+nt." Who knew? I hope I can keep at least the latter piece of information from the hubby. LOL! Of course, the message went into the trash-where it belongs!)****

**Until next time,**

**Kat **


	6. Chapter 6: The Law of Life

_**Kleenex warning: I needed one.**_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 06: The Law of Life<strong>

"_**Change is the law of life. And those who look only to the past or present are certain to miss the future."—John F. Kennedy**_

* * *

><p><strong>NORA POV<strong>

"What have we here?" Nora asked as Nan led in her group, which was composed of a willing "guest," an unwilling prisoner, and a human corpse. The unwilling one was the king of Louisiana. The guest?

Her brother!

"Orchestrate a little usurpation of Louisiana—did we, Nan?" Nora asked facetiously. Nan wasn't Nora's favorite vampire, but the elder vampiress's bitchiness could be amusing at times. And, certainly, Nora had never had any inclination to end Nan.

Until Eric had asked her to.

Nan scoffed at Nora. "No. Tonight I had the honor of witnessing a birth. Please see to it that Sheriff Northman and his new child are taken to comfortable quarters, and make sure he has _all_ that he requires—within reason."

"And King Compton?" Nora asked.

"Oh—I'll personally make sure he's settled in a nice silver cage," Nan grinned evilly, causing Compton to squirm.

"Nigel is down there. I'm sure he'd appreciate a neighbor—or a roommate," Nora said with a smirk. She'd never thought Compton worthy of being a king, though Nan had vaunted his obedience. It seemed that Nan's favoritism for the young monarch had come to an end, however.

To Nora, that was certainly a mark in her fellow Chancellor's favor.

"How delightful for you, Bill. Someone _almost_ as obsessive-compulsive as you," Nan said sarcastically, "however, Nigel's proclivities are toward the blood of infants."

"Indeed," Nora said disgustedly, "and it seems that Nigel's fifty years in lye couldn't even break him of that desire—though it did change his looks—_eventually_."

Nan smirked. "Perhaps, Bill, you could regale Nigel with the story of your life. Maybe he'd end himself—finally—and save us the bother. In fact, time spent with you could be a common feature of our torture strategy from now on."

Nora chuckled. "Of course, that would be torture for us as well."

"Indeed," Nan agreed, as she turned to lead Compton away.

"Wait," Eric said. "Make sure he's in silver tomorrow evening. If Sookie is—in part—his child too, I don't want him in any condition to try to command her until she is calm and ready to deal with that possibility."

"You fucking bastard!" Bill yelled out. "Sookie is mine—_my child_! You have no right to keep her from me!"

"Put a cork in him," Nan intoned.

One of the storm troopers produced a ball gag from his pocket and quickly fit it over Bill's mouth.

"Thank you," Nora chuckled.

Nan nodded toward Eric. "He'll stay silvered until you and your progeny are ready. And I will make sure that it is a thick enough chain so that he couldn't command her—even if he wanted to."

Eric nodded his thanks.

* * *

><p>As Nora motioned for Eric to follow her, she was careful not to give away her relationship with him. The Authority had "ears" and "eyes" everywhere. Nora planned to take Eric to one of the "less" surveilled rooms in the converted warehouse that was serving as the base for the Authority; however, it—like all of the private quarters (even Roman's)—had audio surveillance. Of course, there were ways around anything.<p>

Eric, too, was not acknowledging any relationship between them—much to Nora's relief. Roman, of course, knew all about Nora's background, just as he knew about the backgrounds of all of the Chancellors. But he was discreet with that information.

Nora pulled out her cell phone as they walked down a long corridor, which led to the guest living quarters.

As her vampire mate, Tavio, answered, she felt the bond they'd made enliven as it always did when they interacted.

"Nora," her mate said.

"Tav," she responded.

There was a pause as they both enjoyed the sensation of their blood bond. It was relatively "new" to them—as they'd formed it only a decade before. Of course, they'd needed Roman's permission since they were both Chancellors of the Authority. But he'd given it without reservations. In fact, Roman was Tavio's maker—though no one knew that fact except for Nora. Roman had been very happy for them when they'd decided to bond their lives to each other.

Nora spoke. "Would you mind meeting me in the guest quarters in the southern corridor in thirty minutes? I could use your help."

"I will be there," her mate said, before hanging up.

Nora motioned toward a door at the end of the hall and then led Eric and the woman inside.

"I imagine you will want to bathe her and freshen up yourself," she said evenly. "I will return in thirty minutes with fresh clothing and refreshments for you."

Eric only nodded as Nora left.

* * *

><p><strong>ERIC POV<strong>

If someone would have asked Eric to explain what he was feeling, he would have had a difficult time.

Terror.

Guilt.

Elation.

Hope.

Perhaps, ironically, his current mixture of emotions was similar to what he'd felt when he'd first risen as a vampire. He'd been so frightened. He'd agreed to be the companion to Death, but—in doing so—he'd basically turned his back on his gods, denying the Valkyries the prize of him dying from battle.

He would never forget the night he'd awoken to his new life. He'd been hungry—_so hungry_. And he'd been led by his maker to blood. He'd fed on the living and dying bodies of his own men, as well as his enemies. That feeding had caused him much guilt and had brought him much elation.

His emotions had been the very definition of contradictory.

Strangely enough, he'd felt hope too—hope that his new life would suit him better than his old.

It had—as soon as he'd learned control.

But he found it difficult to imagine that Sookie would come to a similar conclusion. Still—he had hope.

His beloved looked completely dead. She _was_ completely dead, except for the small spark in her that signaled her connection to him—and, unless Bill was lying, to him too. But Eric didn't want to think about Compton at the moment. Once Sookie rose, he would deal with anything that came, including the "king." Frankly—he'd grown accustomed to Compton being a nuisance.

He carried Sookie into the opulent bathroom—attached to the opulent bedroom they'd been brought to, and he turned on the water to fill the large, centrally located tub. He also turned on the shower. There was no toilet in the room, for no humans would have been welcome to stay in the suite.

As he looked down at Sookie, he couldn't help speaking to her.

"If you could see yourself now, you would likely want to stake me. And—if you knew I was about to undress you without your permission—you would, of course, spout out a million protests."

He chuckled as he quickly removed her ripped and stained clothing before doing the same with his. He lifted her again and took her to the shower.

"A rinse off first—_that_ is the key to enjoying a bath after a battle," he said to her, wishing he could hear her response. He was sure that she would say something to challenge him—something that would, undoubtedly, make him love her even more.

"Tomorrow night—I'm sure that you will give me challenge enough then," he assured himself, even as he turned off the shower water and then walked them to the tub. The vessel was near full, and he shut off the water there too. He climbed in and settled Sookie in front of him.

He let the hot water fully warm her skin before he started to wash her.

"I already miss your warmth," he whispered, even as he let the tears freely fall from his eyes. "I mourn your humanity, my love. I know you wanted to die and go to your Heaven, and I mourn—also—the taking of your choice."

He dipped her body in order to wet her hair and then began to wash it.

"You will be a beautiful vampire—I have no doubt of that. But—until the dawn—you _must_ indulge me in my grief for your humanity. Of course, you cannot even hear me, so this will be easy—_for you_." He chuckled, even as more tears made paths over his cheekbones.

"For the rest of this night, I will allow myself to miss all that you were, Sookie Stackhouse. But, once you rise tomorrow night, I will not think of you that way again. I will think _only_ of what you become once the magic of vampirism fully engulfs you. And I am certain that I will love the vampiress even more than I loved the human, for each night I rise, I find that my love for you has grown without my help—or my permission. It is simply a fact of my existence now, my love.

"_You_ are a fact of my existence.

"I know that you will hate your new self at first, so it is up to me to love that self even more. And that means I cannot cling to the warmth and the light that first attracted me to you. After this night, I will never lament the loss of it again—unless you meet your true death. If you do, I will lament all."

From the ridge of his chin, a red drop fell into the water.

"I will lament _everything_."

He rinsed her hair. "You are mine, Sookie, my child. Thus, the first thing that I must be to you is your maker. It will be difficult—for the both of us. But—know this—though I was ready to let you go tonight, I will never regret being your maker. You are even more a part of me now than you were before, min kära," he whispered into her hair. "And, _before_, you were a very big part of me—though I know that was difficult for you to believe."

He sighed.

"We'd formed a love bond in the cubby, but I didn't know that until I'd gotten my memories back. However, before I could tell you of it, you told me that you loved Compton too, so I did not speak of it. I could not. But now I will." He chuckled ruefully. "Now that you are dead and will not interrupt me."

He rubbed conditioner into her hair.

"A love bond is a rare thing for a vampire to form; in simplest terms, the magic within us became linked that night in the cubby. Entwined. The bond was initially formed by the comingling of our blood, but blood cells come and go, Sookie. It is the magic that makes a Supernatural different—_special_. And it is _by magic_ that we can connect forever. You chose me—just as I chose you—that night. And I would not have it any other way." He sighed. "We are bound—soul to soul. Together, we will feel fulfilled. Apart, we will always feel that something is missing."

He rinsed the conditioner from her hair, leaving her tresses soft and gleaming.

"I would have us together and fulfilled," he whispered. "However, I will love you and care for you no matter what comes our way—even if you decide to leave me once more."

After finishing cleaning her, Eric drained the water and toweled her off, not worrying about his own nudity as he walked her into the bedroom and wrapped her body with a robe that had been in the bathroom. Quickly, he combed and braided her hair.

He chuckled. "I once had hair as long as yours—that is how I know how to do this. You should know that our hair and fingernails do grow. They are the only things that change on our bodies. You can even dye your hair. Pam continuously tries to convince me to try red or dark brown, but I just don't think it would seem right. Do you?"

Of course, Eric's question remained unanswered. He zipped into the bathroom and covered himself with a towel. Then he returned to the bed and sat next to his child.

He reached out and took her lifeless hand.

"You will still likely be the death of me, little one," he said honestly. "But—let us make a deal. I will willingly give up my undead life for you—if you will _try_ to live your own undead life—_for yourself_."

Of course, she didn't hear him.

So she didn't answer.

But, still, he hoped.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I hope you liked this chapter. Next up: We'll get some interaction between Nora and Eric, and we will get to meet Nora's mate, Tavio. **

**NOTE: In this fiction, Eric and Nora do have a past romantic relationship (not unlike Eric and Pam), but Nora is bonded to Tavio, and there will be no romance (or sex) between Nora and Eric. The character of Tav, as we will see, helped to solidify Nora's loyalty to Roman over Salome. And that changes a lot of things for her. Feel free to let yourself "like" Nora. She was Godric's child, after all. **

**Until next time,**

**Kat **

**P.S. If might be a while-a week or so-before the next chapter. I have a crazy few days at work coming up, and my next "fun" project is another chapter of _Uncharted_.**


	7. Chapter 7: The Lay of the Land

**Chapter 07: The Lay of the Land**

Exactly thirty minutes after Nora had left, there was a knock on the door. She came into the room carrying a few bottles of TrueBlood and quickly put them into the small refrigerator in the room. A male vampire followed her in and closed the door behind them.

The male had many visible tattoos. From his neck and his arms, they disappeared under his T-shirt. Eric sensed that he was several hundred years old—probably around Nora's age. He had extremely dark hair—the kind of black that almost looked blue—and it contrasted sharply with his pale skin. His eyes were hazel, though the black of his shirt was bringing out the darker shades of them. Indeed, he would have fit the "stereotypical" Goth image even before vampires had actually made themselves known to humans!

He nodded at Eric in greeting. "I am Tavio Santana."

Eric nodded back. He'd heard the name before. Nora had taken Tavio as her mate about a decade before. Godric had told him about it during one of their final phone calls before he withdrew himself from communications with most others—including his vampire children.

"Here is paper and pen," Tavio said, though he produced no such implements. "Please write down all that you require before nightfall tomorrow, and we will have the day-staff secure it for you."

Nora motioned for Eric to answer.

"Thank you," Eric said, going along with whatever Nora was doing.

Tavio pulled a device that looked like an iPod from his pocket and nodded in Nora's direction.

"We can communicate without being overheard now," Nora said.

"So there are listening devices in these quarters?" Eric asked.

"Of course," his vampire sister said, "this is the Authority. But Tav will leave you with this device. With it, you can have privacy. However, don't overuse it. A bit of silence is expected. Too much is _sus_pected."

Eric nodded in understanding.

"So—what is going on?" Nora asked. "Earlier you asked me to kill Nan. But when you arrived with her, you two looked almost," she paused and smirked, "chummy."

Eric sighed. "When I called you, the situation was different. I was hoping to contain my new child's secrets, and I had reason to believe that Nan would be a problem in my desire to do that. Of course, Sookie wasn't my child then, and I had no way of knowing that Nan had already told Roman about her by then."

"Sookie? Sookie Stackhouse?" Nora asked.

"You know the name," Eric observed, his eyes narrowing.

"Yes," Tavio responded. "Roman told Nora and me about her last night. Nan thought she was an extraordinary human—probably part fairy—and clairvoyant too."

"So you two must be on the short list of people that Roman trusts right now," Eric observed.

"Yes. It is a list that gets shorter all the time," Nora responded. "Roman told only Tav, me, and one other member of the Authority—Kibwe—about Nan's theories regarding Sookie."

"Did you know that Roman planned to recruit her? And me?" Eric asked.

"I knew he'd sent Nan back to Area 5 to approach Miss Stackhouse—to try to negotiate a contract with her. And—I believe that she planned to speak to you too. In fact, I was going to call you around the time that you called me. That was why I was able to speak to you freely. I was out of the Authority compound when your call came through. I wasn't sure that you even knew Miss Stackhouse. Roman mentioned her as belonging to Compton."

"She did—once," Eric said with a little growl. "But she became mine. And now she is my child." He paused and his voice softened. "She was the one who stayed with Godric at the end."

Nora gasped as Tavio reached out to take her hand.

"Then she has my gratitude," Nora said quietly.

"And mine," Eric stated.

"I think she has your heart too, Brother," Nora commented astutely.

Eric didn't respond verbally to her statement, but his eyes told Nora that she was right.

"What happened to her?" Nora asked gently.

"Earlier tonight, Sookie was attacked by a Were. She was mortally wounded—to the point that vampire blood couldn't bring her back without turning her. However, Sookie did not want to be a vampire. She was near death when Nan showed up and ordered that she be turned. To prevent her sire from being Compton or Nan, I did it—though Bill may have had enough blood in her by then to be part maker to her too."

"That is a rare thing," Tavio stated.

Eric nodded. "But it is not unheard of."

Nora inhaled deeply. Her gift was sensing connections between beings.

"I smell mostly you in her. But—you are right. I smell Compton too. And I smell something else too. What is it? It smells lovely," she said a little dreamily.

"That is just _her_," Eric said with a little smile, looking down at his beloved. "But, if I had to guess, I would say that it is the Fae in her—maybe the spark. It seems to have clung to her during her transformation."

"Do you still wish for me to kill Nan?" Nora asked.

Eric shook his head. "No. I have agreed to cooperate with her and, therefore, with Roman for the time being and to try to get Sookie to do the same. As a human, she could resist glamour, however, so she _might_ be able to resist the maker's call. But I agreed to try with Sookie—for one month's time."

"And after that?" Nora asked.

"Nan promised that Roman would let us go," Eric responded.

"What of Sookie?"

"She may very well want to meet the sun," Eric said in a whisper.

"And you would let her," Nora commented.

"Yes."

There was a pause.

"I hope she chooses this life then—for your sake," Nora commented.

"So do I," Eric agreed. "So—what are we dealing with here? From what both you and Nan have indicated, Roman is facing a threat—one that is likely going to be coming to a head soon."

"How do you know that?" Tavio asked.

"If it wasn't imminent, Nan would have never suggested a month as the timeframe of my and Sookie's allegiance," he said astutely. "Obviously, she believes that the threat will be over and done with by then—one way or the other."

Tavio smiled. "He is as you said he'd be," he commented to his mate, "cunning."

Nora chuckled. "Yes. He's always been able to see five steps ahead, which makes him impossible to beat at chess." She smirked as she looked at Eric. "You are right about things coming to a head soon."

"What is known about Roman's enemies?" Eric asked.

"They call themselves the Sanguinistas. They believe in a literal interpretation of the Book of Lilith," Nora informed.

Eric scoffed.

Nora smiled wryly. "I know you are not religious, Brother, but—when Roman was made Guardian—he was given a vessel of what is believed to be Lilith's blood. All Chancellors are given a drop upon their induction to the Authority. I can tell you that there is something mystical about it—something powerful and ancient. Just a tiny amount of that blood increased my own strengths."

"So—the Sanguinistas are religious fanatics?" Eric asked.

"Yes. They believe that mainstreamers have betrayed their own kind, and they view Roman—who spearheaded the mainstreaming movement—as their chief enemy." Nora paused for a moment. "Roman's consort, Salome, is the likely leader of the Sanguinistas."

"Then why doesn't Roman just end her?"

"He wants to use her to ferret out who the others are. He suspects that at least one more Chancellor is a Sanguinista. Moreover, we do not know how extensive the group is yet, but killing their leader may make the problem even worse."

"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer," Eric commented.

"Yes," Nora said. "It was Salome who came to me to sniff out whether or not I would be interested in joining the Sanguinistas. Of course, her words could be interpreted as innocuous, and if confronted, she would say that our conversation was her attempt to see if I was a traitor."

"So. You and Tavio are loyal to Roman. And this Kibwe as well—I assume?"

"Yes," Nora responded.

"What of the other Chancellors?" Eric asked. "Where do their loyalties lie?"

"We don't know for sure," Tavio said with a shake of his head.

"Then guess," Eric returned. "I need to know what I'm going to be dealing with—what I will need to protect her from," he said as he glanced down at Sookie. He was still holding her hand, though she would never know it.

"We are not sure about Dieter Braun or Rosalyn Harris," Nora said, "but if I had to guess, I would say that they would back Roman."

"Dieter plays things close to the vest," Tavio supplied. "But he has been loyal to Roman in the past."

"And Rosalyn appears to be quite loyal to Roman, but if he loses the edge, then she will defect over to the other side without a thought," Nora added.

"And the other two?" Eric asked. "Are there not nine Chancellors?"

Nora smirked. "You have figured out that Nan is a Chancellor?"

Eric nodded. "Yes—during the Russell situation. She acted with too much authority—_not_ to be a member of the Authority. So—Nan, you two, Salome, Kibwe, Rosalyn, Dieter. That makes seven."

"Number eight is Margeaux Poirier," Tavio said.

"She was turned at only fifteen and is, therefore, volatile. But she is crafty. Roman is not sure whether or not he can trust her. I would call her a coin flip," Nora informed. "During her human life, she was fervently religious—a disciple of sorts to Joan of Arc. And—it is possible that Salome could have influenced her to transfer her passionate leanings to Lilith."

"And number nine?" Eric asked.

"Hyun-Ae Kim," Nora answered.

"If there is a side against Roman, she will—most _certainly_—be on it," Tavio said. "We are almost positive that she is with Salome, for Salome is the one that brought Hyun-Ae into the Authority. They seem to clash as times, but it is likely a performance."

Eric nodded in understanding. "So—Salome is leading the Sanguinistas, and Hyun-Ae and Margeaux are likely with her. However, Roman hasn't chopped off the snake's head because her following extends beyond this building."

"Yes, we know that there are Sanguinistas among the kings and queens as well as sheriffs around the country. Thus, to kill the movement, Roman needs to understand it," Tavio said.

"However, he needs to understand it quickly, or it might be too late," Eric said.

"Yes. From communications that we have decrypted, it seems clear that something big is coming soon," Tavio informed.

Nora sighed. "There is a further complication too. Roman truly loves Salome—and hopes that she can be turned back to his side."

"Which could make him vulnerable," Eric said.

"Yes. Or he might hesitate. He is a little older than she is—a little stronger," Tavio said, "but if he pauses, she might be able to take him down when the fighting starts."

Eric nodded. "So—we must help to save Roman from himself too."

"Likely," Nora said.

"And Roman initially wanted Sookie in order to help him find out who was loyal to him."

"Yes," Nora informed.

"Are we safe here?" Eric asked. "Will Salome and her followers try to harm us?"

"You are safe. They do not know why you are here," Nora said.

Eric looked skeptical. "But they will soon guess."

"You won't be harmed, Eric. I will assign Were sentries whom I trust to guard your quarters during the daytime. And I have already set the locks to be opened only by you or me. All you need to do is scan your retina there." Nora pointed to a machine near the door.

Quickly, Eric did just that and then returned to Sookie's side. He retook her hand.

"What do you need for your child—for when she rises?" Nora asked, gesturing toward Sookie.

Eric looked around. "Is there anything in here that has any real value?" he asked. "She will likely be quite angry when she rises. She might become destructive."

Nora smirked. "We will take the Monet when we leave."

"Good idea," Eric sighed. He pointed to the small refrigerator/microwave set-up. "I'd like to get some B-positive. Four bags should be enough."

"Your favorite flavor," Nora observed.

"Yours too," Eric reminded. "And Godric's and Pam's. I'm hoping Sookie will have similar tastes to the rest of us—when it comes to blood. And I don't want her first meal to be synthetic, nor do I want it kicking. If she kills, I want her to have her head on straight and make that choice for herself."

"Understood," Nora said, sending out a text. "The blood will be here within a few minutes."

"And I want to arrange for two live donors as well. Let's say three hours after sunset," Eric said.

"What kind?" Nora asked.

"One woman and one man," Eric sighed. "It is possible that she will desire sex as she feeds from a human. On the other hand, she might want to avoid that. I want both possibilities ready for her. And—they should be type A-positive if possible."

"Our _least_ favorite blood type," Nora smirked. "So you can better teach her control."

Eric nodded.

"All will be arranged for," Nora said. "I assume that you wish to be left alone for much of the night tomorrow?"

"Yes. I will bring her out only _if_ she is in control of herself."

Nora nodded. "It will soon be sunrise. I have arranged for more clothing to be delivered to you before then. And the blood will be here soon as well. Can you think of anything else you need?" she asked.

"No," Eric responded. "Just make sure that Bill Compton is kept away; we will deal with him when Sookie wishes it."

"I will make sure he stays in his cell—under silver," Nora said with a smirk.

Tavio handed Eric the iPod, which was apparently a signal jammer of some kind. He demonstrated how to turn the device off and on as he did so.

"Thank you for waiting for me to get her settled," Eric said—'performing' for anyone listening. "Here is a list of my requirements."

"These are reasonable," Nora said with a wink at her brother. "We will see you again—as well as your new progeny—_after_ she gains control of herself."

With that, Tavio took the Monet off the wall, and he and Nora left. Two minutes later, humans carrying additional clothing and the blood that Eric had requested arrived. Eric quickly accepted the items, put away the blood, and then returned to the side of his child.

From the clothing, he chose a modestly cut, light blue nightgown and dressed Sookie in it before tucking her into the large bed. Then he, too, dressed, putting on the pants from a sweat suit he'd been brought. He put on a T-shirt too, figuring Sookie would react better if he was clothed—though he didn't hold out much hope that anything would make her feel better.

He lay next to her and pulled the covers over them. Vampires didn't need blankets, of course, but the warmth was a nice sensation to them.

He "spooned" her body and spoke quietly. "I wish I could have taken you to ground, min kära. The earth in Louisiana this time of year is nice. It retains warmth from the sun and absorbs its scent as well. But it is also cool, and you can literally feel that there is water close to you from below. The mixture of sensations is oddly soothing—at least to me. I hope that you will one day let yourself experience such things."

He inhaled and buried his nose into her hair. "You already smell a bit like me, but I can get a sense of what you will smell like as a vampire too. Still so sweet, Sookie—still _so_ distinct. You will be magnificent if you let yourself be. I will try my best to guide you to the destiny that will suit _you_—however—not the one that would suit me. It will be difficult, but I will try."

Eric was quiet as the dawn came. As an older vampire, he was not so much at the sun's mercy, and he let himself enjoy just a few more moments with his progeny in peace.

"Tomorrow will not be so easy for you," he whispered. "But I hope that you remember this much: I love you."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I hope that you are still enjoying this story. It has been fun reimagining the Authority! I added people and changed the histories of others. You'll learn more about them as they go. I've also re-cast a few of them, and you'll find out whom I picked soon! As for Tavio, I hope you liked him. I knew that I always wanted to give Nora a mate because I didn't want her to be a potential love interest for Eric. I always thought he was using her to turn away from his feelings for Sookie, and that wasn't her fault, but—with Sookie being Eric's new child—Nora isn't needed to help him "f*ck the pain away." Note: I didn't dislike Nora for being involved with Eric in the show, by the way. Sookie had already broken things off with him in that iteration of the world, and—let's face it. Eric is not a "piner." However, the show creators turned Nora into someone I didn't like. And she had so much potential as a character! In addition to taking Eric out of the equation of her "personal life," I've also added in Tavio. Plus, I've made her loyal to Roman, as opposed to Salome. It will be interesting to explore this twist. **

**Until next time—when Sookie rises! Will she break stuff and be angry? Or will she take her transformation well? You know the answer. This is Sookie-right?  
><strong>

**Kat**

**P.S. Thanks again Seph for the help in casting Tavio (and for naming him)! **

**Don't forget to visit my WordPress site to see all of Seph's art for this story, including the cast banners she has made! californiakat1564. wordpress. com.**


	8. Chapter 8: Hatched

**Chapter 08: Hatched**

**_"It may be hard for an egg to turn into a bird: it would be a jolly sight harder for it to learn to fly while remaining an egg. We are like eggs at present. And you cannot go on indefinitely being just an ordinary, decent egg. We must be hatched or go bad."—C. S. Lewis_**

Sookie's eyes opened as if they'd been yanked open.

She somehow knew that the room was dark, but she could still see clearly; in fact, the world seemed somehow brighter than usual. But that brightness was different from sunlight. While the sunlight could make things hazy—diffuse—her eyes seemed to be taking in _every_ line and shadow of _every_ object she could see.

Almost to the point of pain.

In addition, she found herself assessing her surroundings in ways other than sight—as if she were afraid that she might be attacked. She was in a room—a bedroom. She felt satin sheets against the exposed skin of her hands and arms; the sheets slid along her body as she moved. She moaned in pleasure. The satin covered a different material enclosing much of her body—something softer, but less luxuriant.

Cotton.

Both fabrics felt wonderful, and her skin tingled to feel more.

For a moment—as her skin seemed to stretch out to embrace the textiles—she thought about nothing except for the feeling of the materials touching her, but then her mind remembered something.

Something important. Something essential.

She had been dying the last time her eyes were open. With her last gaze, she'd seen Eric's eyes looking down at her in sorrow.

However, the pain of Debbie's attack had left her body by the time she'd locked into his eyes—or maybe _because_ she'd found those eyes. There had been nothing but numb oblivion as she'd met her final moments.

Was she now in Heaven? She'd expected clouds—not sheets.

However, the wonderful feeling of the covers that she was grasping in her hands seemed heavenly.

Again, she moaned in pleasure at the sensation.

But—suddenly—her moan became pain-filled as a feeling of emptiness roared through her body, emanating outward from what seemed to be her very core.

Or maybe her soul.

She'd never felt so empty in all of her life, and she automatically curled up into the fetal position, her body now screaming as it cramped. With extreme difficulty, she managed to use one of her arms to throw off the now-heavy and constricting covers.

How had they gone from pleasurable to smothering so quickly?

Was she in hell? Had she done too many wrongs for God to want her? She figured that only in hell would someone suffer such pain—such hunger.

She heard a click, which echoed in her ears as if she were underwater, and she tasted something horrifying and amazing all at once. She immediately knew that it was her own blood, but it was not the metallic substance she'd tasted on those occasions when she'd bitten her tongue or instinctively soothed a small wound on a finger by putting it into her mouth.

No—the taste was sublime, and it frightened her.

She wanted more, but she knew that her own blood was not what she really wanted. The pain inside of her grew.

And then—suddenly—she recognized the truth.

She was not in Heaven.

She was not in hell.

She was vampire!

She sat up straight and was greeted by eyes that seemed both open and closed to her. She wanted to drown in those eyes, knowing that they could tell her how to stop the pain. However, she was afraid of drowning any more than she already had.

Afraid of losing herself.

Still, she couldn't look away. The blue of those eyes was familiar to her—but it was so different too. The color was sharper somehow—infinitely more varied. She saw greens and violets. She saw browns and blacks. However, the blue tamed the other colors—ruled them with more shades of itself that Sookie had ever seen altogether.

Those blues ruled over her too. She could sense it—feel it with every fiber of her being. She wanted to embrace that rule—to let it take away her pain.

But she also wanted to fight.

The pain attacked her again, and she felt the once luxuriant sheets tearing with a grip she'd not known she was subjecting them to. But that ripping wasn't enough. Her emotions felt erratic, and she thought for a moment of the first time she'd ever babysat an infant, listening to the unpredictable and unformed thoughts of the child as he became colicky. The child hadn't understood what was happening—hadn't understood _why_ he was in pain. And—nothing she had tried would settle him. The child hadn't calmed until his mother had come home and given him medicine that would make his pain fade into oblivion.

Sookie had been relieved to "hear" the child's unformed thoughts settle when the drug had taken effect, but she'd also been terrified that only obliviousness had helped him.

Sookie's own pain heightened once more, and she felt herself striking outward. A lamp flew across the room. She pressed her hands to her ears as it shattered, the sound so loud that it brought a tear to her eye.

A red tear!

"You made me a vampire!" Sookie yelled out, cutting her tongue with her fangs as she did.

"Yes," Eric responded calmly.

His calmness boiled her blood.

In the next moment, Sookie was somehow out of the bed, though she'd not felt herself moving. She was holding Eric by the throat. Somehow, he was now on the floor, and she was on top of him.

"I wanted to die!" she yelled out. "I trusted you to let me die!"

Eric said nothing, and Sookie knew in that moment that—though she seemed to have overpowered him—he was letting her have the upper hand. His eyes offered solace and pity.

She hated both!

Feeling a myriad of seemingly every emotion all at once, she leaned forward and bit into his flesh, letting her fangs talk for her.

She moaned. He tasted sweet—like the port wine Gran sometimes drank with chocolate after holiday meals. Eric's flavor was wonderful, but she stopped drinking only moments after starting. Feeding from him was like eating fudge; it was so delicious, yet it had to be taken in small quantities, or it she knew that it would make her sick.

Her maker's blood would be her favorite taste. Always.

Sookie grasped that truth that with greater clarity than she'd known anything—_ever_! But she also instinctively knew that it would be a treat and that she could never take too much of it. _And_ she knew something else too: Eric's blood—no matter how good—couldn't nourish her.

She felt Eric's erection under her, and she experienced lust as she'd never felt before. It tore through her. And then her pain tore through her again. She ripped Eric's shirt from his body.

"Having sex with me will not sate the lust you feel right now," Eric said quietly, even as he stopped her from tearing off her own clothing, "or the pain. But I can give you what will quell both."

Her body was vibrating with need and pain.

"I hurt!" she yelled out.

"I know," he said, touching her face gently. "Let me help you."

"I feel so—wrong!" she exclaimed.

"You are newly risen. Your emotions will be out of control for a while. And they will be overpowering. But I can help you through the worst of it. Will you let me?"

"Please," she whimpered. "Help me."

As if her weight were nothing to him, Eric got up, taking her with him. "Sit on the bed," he said, his voice taking on an edge that caused Sookie to shake even more. Part of her wanted to resist his order, but she knew instinctively that she shouldn't—or couldn't.

She wasn't sure which.

Eric had already prepared a large glass with blood from one of the bags Nora had arranged for. He'd already set the time on the microwave, so he simply pressed the button to start it.

"Your first human blood will _not_ be cold," he said, even as Sookie suddenly fixated on the machine that contained a scent that was like ambrosia. She couldn't believe that she'd missed that scent before.

It seemed like hours to the newly risen vampiress, but it was only seconds before the microwave dinged.

Sookie stayed seated, but reached her hands out for the blood.

Eric didn't make her beg. He had the glass to her quicker than a human could blink, and Sookie was drinking in the blood as quickly as she was able. Meanwhile, Eric was back at the microwave, putting a second glass into it.

She's finished her first taste of human blood even before the microwave was done warming her second.

"So good," she said, licking her lips. "I need more. I hurt."

Eric brought her another.

She drank quickly again—as he prepared her a third glass.

By the time her pain ebbed, she had drunk most of three bags from the mini-fridge.

Finally, she felt as if she could breathe again. So she did. She felt the air move into her mouth and into her lungs, but it didn't seem interested in filling them. She looked down at her chest. It was unmoving with the air flow. She took another breath and concentrated.

Her lungs obeyed and her chest rose.

"We no longer require air to live, so it simply comes into our bodies and drifts around before leaving as it came," Eric informed. "Vampires have learned that no breathing process takes place. We don't expel something that is more carbon dioxide than oxygen. We simply use the flow of air to speak. But you can consciously take air in—as you just felt. Doing this once helped us to look like we were more human. However, now it will feel like a movement to you—like taking a step. You must _decide_ to breath and then tell your body to do so. Blinking is the same."

Sookie looked at Eric and suddenly realized that she'd not blinked since she'd arisen. She consciously closed her eyes and then consciously reopened them. She did this several times in quick succession.

"Your body, I'm sure, feels both foreign and familiar to you," Eric said softly, even as he brought her another glass of warmed blood and sat down with another glass, which he began to sip. "It was the same for me once. Try to drink more slowly, and feel yourself exercising control over the rate of speed at which you feed."

"Will it always be like that?" Sookie asked, trying to find some control—over both her actions and her emotions.

"No," Eric responded. "That is the worst hunger you will ever feel—unless you are drained again. When you awoke, your body had very little blood inside of it—just a hint of yours and about a pint of mine; thus, your body needed to be refilled. The magic animating you is now animating that blood. It is—quite literally—making that blood your own. The magic will use this new blood—absorb it—to keep itself alive. But it will not begin to drain you unless you fail to eat to replenish yourself."

"What if I refuse to eat?" Sookie asked defiantly. "Will I die?"

"No," Eric responded. "You _will_ lose control again, however. Your body and the magic within it will compel you to drink, and you will feel pain again. You will be driven mad and become extremely weak if you don't feed, but you will not die that way."

"So the pain won't be as bad as long as I drink," Sookie sighed.

"Correct. When you awaken for the night for the next year or so, you will feel an ache—a hunger. But as long as you've had enough blood the night before, you will be able to retain your control long enough to find food and feed responsibly."

"What if I don't want to stay a vampire? What if I want to die?" Sookie asked with a growl, once again losing her control.

"Then you should choose a method other than starvation to kill yourself," Eric said evenly, though there was great pain evident in his eyes. "As I have indicated, if you are starved long enough, you will turn into the monster you fear yourself to be already. You will lose all control—and lose yourself. And you will not find yourself again until _many_ are dead in your wake."

"Will you let me meet the sun?" Sookie asked desperately, her emotions still slingshotting. "Will you stake me?"

"Yes," Eric said, his eyes betraying a level of sorrow that almost broke Sookie because of her heightened senses. "But I cannot do so for a month."

"What? Why?" Sookie asked. "I don't want to be like this."

"I know, Sookie. And I was prepared to let you die, but Nan Flanagan showed up and commanded that you be made a vampire."

"So you just did what she asked?" Sookie asked indignantly, even as she unconsciously ripped through the comforter on the bed.

Eric's growl filled the room, low and vibrating. Sookie's teeth chattered a little and her fangs—once again—scratched her tongue, drawing blood. This time, however, Sookie was lucid enough to feel the wound healing.

"I didn't _just_ do anything, Sookie!" Eric said coldly. "Here are some truths that you _will_ acknowledge. Number one—when I turned you, there were several guns, which were loaded with wooden bullets—pointed at my heart. And—though you may have wanted death—I did not!"

"So you killed me to save your own skin!" Sookie accused, growling back. The sound was animalistic and cringe-worthy to her ears. But she couldn't control it any more than she could control the anger that seemed to be overtaking her.

"Silence!" Eric yelled out, once again, issuing a command Sookie felt she _needed_ to follow. "You are allowing your emotions to control you. You need to calm down and assess which ones you truly feel and which ones are coming from your fear!"

However, Sookie had no interest in 'assessing' or 'controlling' anything!

In that moment, she realized that she was still sitting—because he'd _commanded_ her to sit! But she wasn't going to allow that! _Never_!

So she tried to stand, her legs shaking and a pain growing inside of her.

"You are trying to go against a maker's command," Eric said evenly. He pulled what looked like an iPod from his pocket. He pressed a button. "_I_ can speak without being overheard now. _You_ are to remain silent," he commanded again.

Sookie tried to speak, but only managed to growl. However, even the attempt was clearly hurting her.

"If you continue to struggle, the pain will get even worse," he continued, closing his eyes tightly as if trying to close out her pain, "but feel free to test the limits of your freedom. It is a reality that you need to accept. It is a reality that all vampires must accept. I'd hoped that your fairy nature would make you immune—as you were immune to glamour—but you are not immune to my commands," he added sadly, "though most would not have tried to resist this long. However, you must intuit that your efforts against my commands are futile."

"You bastard," Sookie mumbled out, even as she tried to take a step toward him. Again, pain tore through her as she continued to try to disobey his previous orders to stay seated and silent.

"Come to me," Eric commanded grimly.

Though she wanted to resist going to him now, Sookie quickly responded and obeyed.

"_Kneel_ before me," he ordered, even as he opened his eyes and took a sip of his blood.

Sookie could tell that Eric was trying to be calm, but his hands were shaking slightly.

The glass in her own hand shattered as she attempted to stay on her feet.

For five minutes she did not kneel—would not yield—even as Eric watched her with a kind of sorrow he'd never felt before.

Sookie could see that intense sorrow in his eyes; she _could_ feel it. She registered the tears that streamed down his alabaster cheeks. She felt the agony ripping at his soul—and at hers. But still she stood.

Her knees shook.

Her mind was rattled with pain that almost rivaled the hunger she'd felt earlier, yet somehow, this pain was crueler.

For it was being _forced_ upon her—by the one she loved.

Finally, her strength gone, she yielded; she dropped to her knees, only to find Eric next to her—having dropped to his knees with her.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So—Sookie's awake…and resisting her new nature. No surprise there. Just to be clear, Eric does have the ability to command her. Any vampire can try to resist his/her, but pain is the consequence. Eric is having to teach her that the hard way, but it's a needed lesson for her. **

**I toyed with the idea of having her be immune to the "maker's command," but—in the end—I thought it would be more interesting this way.**

**More as soon as I can get it to you.**

**Kat**


	9. Chapter 9: Choosing Destiny

**Chapter 09: Choosing Destiny**

"_**I can control my destiny, but not my fate. Destiny means there are opportunities to turn right or left, but fate is a one-way street. I believe we all have the choice as to whether we fulfil our destiny, but our fate is sealed."—Paulo Coelho**_

Sookie was panting.

"If I could have died in order to guarantee that you, too, could die," Eric said softly, "I would be ash even now. But Nan was going to make sure you became a vampire—no matter what. She would have let Bill turn you on top of my remains if I had resisted her. Or she would have turned you herself."

He sighed. "I know you despise me right now—and despise your very existence. I feel it with everything that I am through the bond that we formed both before you died and the one I forced upon you as you died. But know this, Sookie Stackhouse. I love you—love you enough to accept the hate that you feel for me right now in order to protect you from a fate I knew you would hate worse than even this one."

He sighed and lifted his fingers to brush away the tears that disobedience had cost Sookie during her struggle.

"You are my beloved, Sookie Stackhouse. However, you are also a newborn vampire—my child—and you emotions are not fully under control. I know that—right now—you want to leave this life. And I _will_ let you do just that, but I have given my word that I will make sure that you live through the month. You and I will discover your vampire strengths together. We will work for the Guardian, who is the head of the Vampire Authority in this country. We will both obey for one month's time. And then—after that—you will be free to do as you wish."

He paused and caressed her cheek. "Even if that wish is to leave me by seeking out your true death."

She moved her face away from his hand as he went to stroke her hair.

"Sookie," he whispered, "I am your maker and must help you learn to control yourself. I must teach you, and—to do that—there will be times when I must use a maker's command. However, I swear that I will _never_ command you to your knees when I am not willing to go there alongside you," he sighed, even as he closed his eyes again. The pain in them disappeared to the newly-risen vampiress, but she still felt the conflict within her maker—the intense sorrow. The love.

"You are feeling the child-maker bond," he whispered, as if reading her mind. "I was able to block my feelings from you as you fed, but great emotions are more difficult to conceal, especially with proximity. It hurts me gravely to command you; it has killed a part of me—just as it has very likely killed the love you once felt for me. That which I loved most about being with you was the _equality_ I felt in our relationship. And now that is gone," he said sadly. "I mourn it. I want to free you—to let you have your independence from me. With you, I have come to realize that I want a love based on mutuality and choice, yet that possibility has been taken from us both." He paused. "And I must command you again."

His eyes opened, and more tears slipped from them. "Sookie Stackhouse, as your maker, I command you to not willfully do anything that would lead to your own harm or true death for the next thirty nights. I further command you not to do anything that would lead to my harm or true death during that time. At the end of that time, you will be free, dear one. I swear it."

She grunted as if wanting to speak.

"I lift my other commands upon you, Sookie," he said. "You may speak and move around this room as you wish."

Sookie was up and across the room from him in the next second. A ceramic vase and a wall hanging suffered in her retreat. Eric lingered on his knees for a moment and then rose at a human pace.

He tried to smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I made sure that anything highly valuable was removed from the room."

She looked at the vase she'd smashed and the tapestry she'd ripped through. A part of the textile was still in her hands, and she threw it onto the floor. "I'm a monster!" she yelled, picking up an ornate glass bowl on the small table near her. She hefted it toward her maker as hard as she could. "You made me a monster!"

"I made you a vampire," he corrected as he easily caught the object. "Your new nature will take time to accept. It is like that for all of us—even those who choose to become undead."

"I will _never_ accept it!" she seethed.

"Maybe not," he said in barely a whisper, though he knew that she could hear him very well. Deliberately, he placed the decorative bowl onto the dresser closest to him.

She glared at him for a moment before ripping a painting from the wall and tearing it in two.

"Destroy what you wish in here, but know that doing similar things outside of this room will result in your punishment—and mine."

"By this Guardian person?" she asked.

Eric nodded. "Yes. Roman."

"What if Roman breaks his word to you?" she asked facetiously. "After all, vampires aren't exactly honest!"

"If he breaks his word, then I will die fighting for your freedom," he responded.

"But what if he kills you? Where will that leave me?"

"Indeed—it is likely that I will die if I fight the Guardian. He is older than I am. However, I can arrange for you to be staked if I am turned to sludge or ash."

"How?"

"I cannot tell you," Eric said. "But you must trust me that it will be done."

"I don't trust you—not anymore," she said through narrowed eyes.

"I know; I feel that," he said evenly, though his eyes were filled with pain. "As I have indicated, right now, your emotions are volatile because you are newly turned. All of your senses are heightened: your abilities to see, hear, taste, and smell; the sensations you will pick up through touch; and those senses that are internal—the speed of your mind, the strength of your emotions, and the firing of your nerves. I am hoping that—once you settle down—you will find your trust for me again. And your love."

"How can I love the one who made me _this_?" she asked, motioning toward herself. "How can I love the one who took away my choice?"

"You cannot," he said, a tear slipping from his eye. "You will never love me again if you don't, _first_, come to love the vampire you have become. You will never love me again unless you come to _choose_ this life. But those things will matter only _to me_ for the foreseeable future. What should matter to you is the reality of the situation you are in. You are vampire. You must exist this way for one month. You must—during that time—learn about yourself and come to understand your gifts. You must—as I must—obey the Guardian. We have no other choice. You must obey because I have compelled you, and I must obey or die."

"Must," Sookie sighed in a defeated tone, as she leaned against the joining walls in the corner of the room and then let herself slide down them. Red tears fell from her eyes too, creating pathways though the blood that had already streaked her newly alabaster cheeks.

Eric zipped into the bathroom and quickly wet two washcloths. He wiped the blood from his own cheeks as he walked back into the bedroom, and then tossed the other washcloth to Sookie.

"Thanks," she said automatically as she began to wipe her face.

Eric took the glass of blood he'd been sipping and filled it up before warming it and taking it to her.

Despite her scowl at him, she drank eagerly.

"You do not trust me right now. I know that. But I will show you that I still trust you, Sookie," he said, sitting down onto the floor next to her. "I will put my life into your hands. I will give you your choice back—at least, as much as I can."

"How?"

"If you ask it of me, I _will_ kill you myself—now. I will break apart that chair," he said, pointing to the object, "and I will stab one of the legs through your heart. I could do it in mere moments. You would feel very little before you became sludge in my arms."

"But then you would be killed by this Roman—wouldn't you?" she asked.

"Yes," he sighed, "likely."

"You said earlier that even if you died, you could make sure that I was staked. You have someone you trust in the Authority—don't you? Could you have that person kill me—when you—uh—had an alibi?" she asked.

He smiled a little. "You have always had the ability to strategize well. I _could_ ask the person I trust here to do it, but there are no guarantees, and that individual would then be put into danger. I'd like to avoid that—if possible. If I were to die and you were to live, there is a further complication that you would have to deal with. You would be free of me, but I believe that another would be waiting to compel you."

"What are you talking about?" Sookie asked.

Eric sighed. "Concentrate on our connection for a moment. Can you feel my emotions?"

Sookie closed her eyes. "Yes. I feel you. You are pensive right now—worried. It feels like I'm attached to you with some kind of rope."

"Yes," he said. "That is the maker-child bond. Do you sense any other attachments?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, suddenly frightened.

"I gave you more blood than Bill did last night. But some of his blood was used to limit the speed of your own blood loss. And—before that—only days ago, he gave you _a lot_ of blood after you were shot. In fact, what he gave was almost enough to turn you that night. And—last night—before Debbie's attack, _both_ of us took your blood after we'd been burning on the witch's pyre."

"What are you saying?" Sookie asked.

"Bill is your maker too—at least to a certain extent. I feel my dominance—both because of my age and strength and because I was the last to feed you at the time of your human death. But I _can_ feel your connection to another—to Bill. There is another bond there, and if I die, it will become dominant."

"Oh God!" Sookie cried with realization. "I feel it too—though it's weak! Does this mean he could command me too?"

"I don't know," Eric said thoughtfully. "I think he could influence you, but you might be able to resist him more than you could me, but it would be painful—as it was when you resisted me."

"Well—uh—if you are my," she paused, looking for a word, "_main_ maker, couldn't you just order me never to obey him?"

"Only if I was willing to let my commands and his commands counteract each other. But—if I did that—it could very well tear you apart as you tried to obey us _both_."

"Fuck!" she gasped.

"Fuck—indeed," he chuckled mirthlessly. "I would kill him, but there would be repercussions—not the least of which would be your anger." The vampire sighed. "You love him—at least a part of you does. I can feel that too. And—if I killed him, even to protect you from him—a part of you _would_ resent me."

Sookie put down her empty glass and put her face into her hands. Eric could smell the blood of her tears, and he longed to reach out to hold her, but he didn't. "You're right. I _do_ feel love for Bill, even though I know that he wanted to turn me against my wishes last night. _You_ were the one to stop him. So why am I so pissed at you?"

"You heard us?" Eric asked.

"Yes," she responded. "I heard what was happening up to the point that I looked at you for the last time."

Not being able to help himself, Eric reached out for her and smoothed a piece of hair behind her ear.

When she pulled away, he did too, grabbing her glass and getting her a refill. When he returned, he handed it to her gingerly. Then he moved into the bathroom to wet her another washrag. He set it on the table next to where she was sitting before he sat on the bed.

She looked up at him with sorrow-filled eyes. "How is it that I can still love him, despite all that he did, yet hate you for being the one who actually turned me?" she asked. "I mean—that's not logical! I believe what you said about Nan—that she would have made sure I was a vampire one way or another." She paused. "But I'm still so mad at you, even though I know _here_," she added, pointing to her head, "that it's not your fault—that you tried to do right by me—that you were in an impossible situation too."

Eric chuckled ruefully. "As I said before, a new vampire's emotions are often volatile, and—frankly—they don't make a lot of sense sometimes. But—if you give yourself time—you will figure them out."

"_If_ I give myself time," Sookie whispered. "Or I could ask you to kill me now."

"Yes," Eric said, his eyes moving to look at the floor. "Anytime during the next month, all you need to do is tell me that you've had enough, and I will end you—or try to end you. And—as you have already guessed—there will be a back-up plan if I fail."

"But I risk being controlled by Bill without you as a buffer if you fail—and if Plan B fails."

"Yes," he confirmed, "though failure on both fronts would be unlikely, it would be possible."

She was silent for a few minutes. "I don't want you to die, Eric," she whispered. "I can't ask you to kill me—even though I want to—because I don't want you to die," she repeated.

He sighed. "Then that is a beginning," he said, standing up from the bed.

"A month?" she asked, getting to her feet as well. "And then I can die and you can live on?"

He nodded, though his eyes flashed to the other side of the room for a moment. "That is the deal."

"Okay," Sookie said cautiously. "I will give you a month. But I need you to make me a deal too."

"Anything," he said.

"I don't want to kill any humans that I feed from. The way I feel right now—I don't even know if I'd feel bad if I killed people. However, I don't want to carry that guilt into the afterlife when I meet the sun. I don't want to be like Godric," she finished quietly.

"I promise. You will kill _no one_ unless it is to protect yourself," Eric vowed. "But to make sure you don't have any accidents, I need to teach you how to feed from a human."

Sookie nodded. "Okay."

"Anything else?" he asked.

"Earlier—I felt such overwhelming lust. Was that bloodlust?"

"Yes," he responded.

"Will I—uh—want to have sex when I feed?" she asked.

"Yes. You will become very aroused. The impulse to give into that arousal is difficult to control when you have a live donor."

"Make sure I control it?" she asked. "I don't want to do something I would have hated doing as a human. And—uh—I don't—uh—want to have sex with someone I can hear. After it was over—it would hurt when I remembered his thoughts."

"_Can_ you hear? Is your telepathy still intact?" he asked.

She nodded. "I wasn't sure at first. The hunger was so great. But—yes. I think I have better control over my shields now, but my emotions have always made my shields weaker, and I'm feeling things so much stronger now! And I'm _really_ scared what touching someone might do," she whispered. "But I hear about twenty humans, some close and some far away. I'm trying to keep them blocked out now."

"Can you hear me?" Eric asked.

"I think I could—if I tried," she whispered. "But—_please_—don't make me try. I'm afraid that—if I let it happen once—I wouldn't be able to stop it."

Her eyes were begging him—beseeching him to allow her one avenue of peace. He could not deny her.

He never really could.

He nodded. "Okay—then. Let us make this a nonissue for the time-being. As your maker, I command you to tell anyone who asks, including Bill, that you _cannot_ read vampire minds. And—as you say it—I command you to _believe_ it to be true. Moreover, unless I say otherwise, I command you not even to attempt to read vampire minds."

"Thank you," she whispered.

"You're welcome."

There was a knock on the door; Sookie looked at it with worry.

"What's wrong?" Eric asked.

"I can hear that the two humans at the door are donors for me," she whispered. "I'm afraid—afraid I might hurt one."

He nodded. "I will command you to stop feeding if your actions could injure one of them. And I will _not_ let you have sex with anyone—_unless_ you desire it when you are _not_ compelled by bloodlust," he added. His eyes mirrored the relief in her eyes. He'd been prepared to let her satisfy any urge she'd had as a newly-risen vampire. After all, he'd done all that he'd desired sexually when he'd been a newly arisen vampire. But he was happy that she was choosing not to do so; watching her have sex with another would not have been pleasant for him.

Sookie nodded. "Thanks."

"Will you sit on the bed?" he asked, making a point not to command her.

"I think I'd rather stay standing," she said.

"Okay." He took the device that allowed them privacy out of his pocket and then showed Sookie as he turned it off. Then, he put it back into a drawer in the dresser.

"Sookie," he said, obviously performing for any listeners as well as speaking to her, "it is time for you to learn to feed."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks so much for everyone who is continuing to read and comment on this story! **

**Here's some rambling about some of my thoughts on this story; feel free to skip. Many of you gave Sookie a little bit of a hard time after her rising, and you might be even more pissed off at her for saying that she loves Bill and hates Eric. First of all, I'm of the opinion that Sookie's love for Bill was created by naivety and his blood in her. And I am NOT going to have Sookie just run off to him and reunite with him. She doesn't trust Bill.**

**As for Eric? Well—there's that thin line between love and hate. Would she "hate" him and feel so betrayed by him if she didn't love him? Plus, I am of the opinion that any newly-risen vampire would have strong and seemingly-contradictory emotions. She'd trusted Eric to let her die, and she finds herself as a vampire, hungry and lacking in control. I sort of think she's doing a good job considering everything. She's also dealing with the fact that she is being subjected to her maker—and I kind of think I would react "poorly" to that too—even if it were the Viking. Anyway, that's just some of my thoughts. I hope you'll give this Sookie a little time to adjust. Like any "child," she will likely "act out." **

**I'll try to have the next chapter in a week or so. Thanks for your patience (and impatience). **

**Best, **

**Kat**


	10. Chapter 10: Nourishment

**Chapter 10: Nourishment**

"_**Love is the capacity to take care, to protect, to nourish."—Nhat Hanh**_

"Okay. I'm ready to learn," Sookie said, understanding immediately that she and Eric were now being overheard by whomever was listening—friend or foe.

"Right now," he explained calmly, "the scents of the humans are being muffled because they are outside of the door, but you can still smell them—can you not?"

She nodded.

"What do they smell like?" he asked.

"Like steak," she responded quickly, licking her lips, "only better."

Eric chuckled. "That is why some vampires see humans as cattle; many believe they smell of beef steak. When I first encountered a human after my turning, I compared his scent to deer meat—venison."

"I don't wanna be that way," Sookie said, ashamed of her craving for fresh blood. "I don't want to think of people as only food."

"Then you won't," her maker assured. "You can _choose_ to think of humans as providing you with nourishment—just like you used to provide your customers at Merlotte's with food. You can _choose_ the humans you wish to feed upon, and you can learn to separate those who are your friends from those who are—in a sense—," he paused for a long moment, "your_ employees_. These human donors have _chosen_ to be here, and they will be compensated—compensated well—for their blood. It is a job to them; however, most of them also find it pleasurable. Thus, they might hope for sex with you, in addition to being fed on by you; however, you don't have to provide them with sex. You must feed, Sookie, but _how_ you feed will be your choice. And—until you have control—I will help you to stick with the choices you make when you are calm."

"I don't want to have sex with them," Sookie said, mostly for the benefit of whoever was listening—since she'd already made her feelings on the matter clear to Eric.

"That is fine," he nodded. "I will make sure that you don't give into your lust with them. But—to gain control of yourself so that you no longer need me there as a safeguard—you must learn to separate bloodlust from sexual lust."

Sookie nodded to signal that she understood.

Eric walked toward the door. "Once I let them in, their scent will be amplified. But there is more. You are now a vampire, and—by nature—a vampire is a predator. Primordial humans were predators too, of course. But over time, humans evolved to hunt and cultivate food in more," he paused, "civilized ways."

"So—uh—vampires are like prehistoric people?" Sookie asked.

"Something like that," Eric smiled a little. "You will feel the desire to hunt. You will feel new instincts arise within you. One instinct will be to capture your prey quickly and violently—so that he or she cannot get away. And you will not want to share. I want you to try to stifle those two instincts. These donors will _not_ try to get away from you, so there is no need to be the predator in this case. They _want_ to feed you, Sookie, and—because of this—there is no need to hurry. No need to kill. Do you understand?"

She nodded nervously. "Yes."

"I will also be feeding from one of them," Eric said casually.

Sookie growled a little.

Eric smirked. "That growl is a sign of your new instincts. You will feel selfish when it comes to meals for a while, yet you need not worry. The blood from just one of the donors will satisfy your needs."

"Okay," Sookie said, panting a little. "But what if it doesn't?"

Eric chuckled. "Then I'll call down for another human for you to feed on. There are plenty, Sookie. There is no need to feed from them all."

She nodded, looking a little calmer.

"In addition to their scent, you will also be drawn to their pulses, which indicate the movement of their blood. Each pulse will be like a symphony to you, and you will find that—like a maestro—_you_ can control the music. Do not let that music control you. Listen to the pulse beat. It will be excited by your presence. It will thrum with your donor's anxiety and arousal. You will hear it—_feel it_—beating into your mouth like the most beautiful song imaginable. You will want to hear more of the song, but you must learn to stop drinking _before_ the music stops."

"How will I know when?" Sookie asked.

"Easy," Eric said. "The beat of the song will become irregular. That is the signal that the human body has given you all it can safely give and has become taxed. As long as the beat is steady—whether fast or slow—you can drink. When the rhythm changes—becomes sluggish—you must stop."

"Okay."

"Are you ready?" Eric asked.

Sookie nodded. "Yeah. Please," she added, looking at the door with longing and anticipation.

"Remember, you need _not_ hunt them."

She nodded again. "I remember."

Eric slowly opened the door and let in the humans. Both were attractive as he imagined all of the Authority's donors would be. Both had Type A-positive blood—_not_ Eric's favorite. Generally—unless he was in need—he would have avoided them.

He looked at the donors. "You will be silent—understand?"

Both of them nodded.

"Which one do you want?" he asked his new progeny, even as he looked on proudly as Sookie stayed where she was standing. Her fangs had immediately snapped into place and she was leaning forward, her nose twitching and her body vibrating slightly, but he could see that she was in control. That was better than Pam had been. Hell—that was better than he'd done those many years before.

"The woman," she whispered. "I want the woman."

Eric nodded. "Then I will show you how to feed by feeding on the man. Watch me. And learn."

"Okay," she said, her voice squeaking a little.

"Stay there," Eric ordered the female, before looking at the male donor. "Come here."

Without argument, the male donor obeyed and approached Eric.

"Turn around with your back to me," Eric instructed him.

The donor leered at Eric and then did as he'd been told.

Eric moved behind him and tipped his head to the side. "This is the jugular vein," he said to Sookie, using his fingers to trace the vessel. "This is where you should take your bite. The carotid artery is close to the jugular, but you want the vein, or the blood flow will be too fast. The only main arteries that you can safely drink from—if you want to leave your donor alive—are the femoral and radial arteries. The blood in them will taste a little different to you, for that blood contains more oxygen than the blood on its way back to a heart. This is why vampires enjoy drinking from a variety of places. The flavor alters a bit with the site of taking. That is also a reason for us _accidentally_ killing. If we take from arteries too close to the heart, we can cause unintended harm."

"But I know nothing about veins and arteries," Sookie said, even as she began panting a little as her desire to feed from the live humans grew. Still, she held her place.

Eric knew that he was pushing Sookie with his "lecture," but he wanted her to understand that she _did_ have the ability to be patient—to have control. It was a lesson that Godric had helped him to understand early on too. Pam hadn't given a fuck about protecting human life, so Eric had allowed her to go her own way and to learn mostly by trial and error. But Eric—similar to Sookie—hadn't wanted to kill indiscriminately. After his first "mistake," Godric had taught him to demonstrate control, even though Godric himself—at the time—didn't give a damn about humanity either.

However, a good maker always adapted to his or her progeny—at least to a certain extent. Otherwise, enmity would grow between maker and child, and Eric didn't want that—especially not with Sookie.

Eric continued his explanation. "You will instinctively know what you are biting into by 'listening' to the beat from that spot. Closer to the heart, the blood moves faster than in other places." His fangs clicked into place, and Sookie licked her lips.

"Here," he said, moving his fangs lightly over the carotid artery, "the pulse is very strong. I can also tell that the flow is upward—moving away from the heart. I _could_ bite here, and it _would_ be tasty, but—if I did—I might kill this man."

Aroused, the donor shivered.

"He _wants_ to die," Sookie said, hearing his thoughts. "He wants you to fuck him—hard," she said, wantonly grasping her breast over her nightgown. "He wants to be like you."

"Like _us_, Sookie," Eric whispered against the man's flesh as he slid his fangs toward the man's jugular, drawing two thin trails of blood as his went.

Sookie growled with want, but she stayed in place.

"I can tell that this is a vein because it is moving slower than its complement. It is also flowing downward. _This_ is where I want to bite. I actually prefer the blood I will find here to the blood of the carotid; I speculate you will too."

"Why?" Sookie panted, her nipples now taunt from her absent-minded attentions to her own body.

"The blood from the carotid is almost too oxygenated for my taste, though the blood of the femoral is lovely, almost bubbly."

"God—you're making me so fuckin' hungry," Sookie said, her body quivering. "And so horny."

"I know," Eric said as he gently bit into the man's neck. Sookie heard the donor moan shamelessly, even as a wet patch showed that he'd orgasmed just from Eric's bite.

She listened to the donor's thoughts. "He _really_ wants you to fuck him, and then he wants to fuck me," she said, not caring in that moment that she was being vulgar.

Eric moaned and then licked the small wound he'd caused. "My impulse is to give him the first part of his wish," he admitted even as he dragged his erection against the donor's ass. "If I did, I know that his blood would become even more flavored by adrenaline and hormones. And that would taste _so_ good," he moaned, grinding again, "but I can _choose_ not to give in to this urge. I can be satisfied with just the drink I took. I can think about my actions and realize that I don't _really_ want to fuck this man. I'm not particularly attracted to him, and I prefer women to men—and _you_ above all others," he emphasized. "I can make the rational choice not to fuck him—because I _want_ to fuck no others but you."

The donor groaned with disappointment, even as Eric moved to the other side of his neck and bit again, this time harder—and once more demonstrating a "technique" to Sookie. He took only a sip before licking the wound. His eyes—blue fire—stayed locked onto Sookie's earthy orbs.

"You are so goddamned sexy right now," Sookie moaned out, feeling impossibly aroused. Her hand drifted toward her center, though she kept her attentions over her nightgown.

"You are feeling a mixture of bloodlust and regular lust," Eric said. "Tell me what you _want_ to do—what your instincts want to do."

"I want to feed from him. I want him to touch me everywhere while you fuck me—hard," she said quivering. "Then, I want to fuck him.

Eric looked at his donor, taking him under his control. "You should go—_now_."

Sookie could tell that the man had been glamoured to leave, for he left without complaint.

Still—Sookie remained in her place. But, with the man gone, her interest immediately shifted toward the woman, who'd been standing near the door where Eric had left her.

"Do you still want to fuck the donor who just left?" Eric asked.

"No," Sookie said with a little surprise, "now I want _her_, and I'm not even a lesbian!" she added with shock.

The vampire chuckled. "Remember this feeling," he instructed. "It will help you to understand the difference between impulse and preference. It is not wrong to give into impulse—_if_ that is what you want—but you told me earlier that it was not; now you must tell yourself the same thing."

"But I'm hungry," she said sounding like she was halfway between a pout and desperation.

"I know. But you are _not_ starving."

"But you've made me wait—_so long_—to feed," she growled, feeling her emotions slingshot toward aggression.

"I know. But you have waited—_successfully_. You _chose_ to do that, Sookie. I guided but did not command. _You_ are in control. Now, keep that control as you come here," he whispered.

She took air into her lungs unnecessarily and approached him, even as he gestured for the female donor to approach as well.

"What do I do?" Sookie asked.

"You know already," Eric stated. "Do as I did. Follow your teaching."

Sookie nodded. "Turn around," she rasped out to the female donor.

The donor complied, and Sookie slowly walked up behind her. She looked at Eric as she moved the donor's hair to the side. Both women closed their eyes—the donor out of arousal and Sookie in order to remain in control.

"She wants me to bite her and then use my mouth and hands to fuck her," Sookie said.

"Of course she does," Eric returned. "You are beautiful and alluring."

Sookie opened her eyes. "I smell how much she wants me."

"So do I," Eric said. "I smell your arousal as well," he added with a pant of his own.

"I want her," Sookie said.

"What do you _really_ want?" Eric asked.

"To feed," Sookie said after a moment of contemplation.

"Do you hear the music of her blood?"

"Yes. It's beautiful. I want to bite into it."

"Do you hear the difference between the artery and the vein?"

"Yes."

Sookie positioned her hands onto the donor's shoulders. The woman was slightly shorter than the new vampiress, so Sookie leaned down a bit and ran her tongue over where the carotid artery was. "This is the one I don't want to take from—unless it's my goal to kill."

"Correct," Eric said, his own fangs down and his own arousal filling the air as he watched his progeny getting ready to take her first "live" meal from a human. He had to stop himself from lowering his jeans and pleasuring himself as he wanted to do.

Sookie inhaled deeply. "You smell so good."

"Thank you," the donor moaned, though Sookie hadn't been talking about her in that moment. She had been talking to her maker.

"Bite! I want to see it—need to see it," Eric half-instructed and half-begged, now panting harder.

Sookie moved to the donor's jugular and bit down. There was no hesitation—no apology.

Eric moaned, his release hitting him and staining his pants. "Beautiful," he whispered.

Sookie sucked in her first drink from the donor. The sensation was so different from drinking from a glass. She felt both natural and feral. She felt both animal and god.

She felt alive.

She closed her eyes before the feelings of pleasure overtook her mind, and she listened to the melody she found in the donor's blood as she took another draw. She instinctively knew that her meal was excited to be feeding her—and a little afraid. She instinctively knew that the human's arousal and that tiny burst of fear made her taste better. She instinctively knew that the blood in the glass had tasted _better_ to her, but that she preferred this experience because the blood was fresh from the vein. She instinctively knew that this had something to do with blood type and she couldn't wait to try them all. She instinctively knew that she could cause the donor pain or pleasure with her bite. She instinctively knew that she could drain the human in her arms, and a part of her wanted to.

She took another draw.

She listened to the beat.

Such a beautiful song.

Rap, rap, rap, tap. Rap, rap, rap, tap. Rap, rap, rap, tap.

Slower now.

Rap, rap, rap, tap. Rap, rap, rap, tap. Rap, rap, rap, tap.

Now more rapid again.

Rap, rap, rap, tap.

Rap, tap, tap, rap.

Sookie's eyes popped open. Eric had been right. The beat had changed. She wanted to keep feeding, but she knew she'd harm the human if she did. And did she really want to do that?

No.

So she made a choice: She pulled her fangs from the donor and licked her wound closed, just as her maker had done with the other donor.

She felt proud for learning—proud for stopping. She looked up at Eric, and he was looking at her with pride. Of course, he was also looking at her like _she_ was the steak now. She was so aroused. But it wasn't the woman in her grasp that she wanted anymore, so she let her go.

Sookie caught the woman's eye and tried out her ability to glamour for the first time. "Thank you. You will go," she said.

The woman nodded and quickly left.

For a long moment, Eric and Sookie stood staring at each other. Fangs were down and blood-stained. Eyes were dilated and dark. Growls were low and needy.

"I want you," Sookie said.

"Do you?" Eric asked, panting. "You told me you hated me—hated what I have done to you."

"That doesn't change that I want to fuck you."

Eric growled louder. "And I _want_ you to fuck me—more than almost anything. But I will _not_ let you do it while you are like this."

Sookie growled back, trying to assert a dominance she knew instinctively that she could never have over him—no matter what. Still—she _wanted_ it.

"Why not?" she asked.

"Because the one thing I want more than your body is your love."

"I am vampire now!" Sookie snarled. "Isn't it my nature to fuck and feed?"

"Yes," he said, his voice steely cool.

"Isn't it in my nature not to understand love," she growled, reminding them both of the moment they'd shared in the Fellowship church. Trust between them had been fledgling then too.

"Take a shower," Eric ordered with that tone which told her it was a command.

Immediately, she wanted to comply and to resist—as she did with all of his commands so far. She glared at him, but obeyed, taking off her clothing as she went toward the bathroom. She looked at him over her shoulder, and it was all he could do not to answer her own call of him: a siren's call.

In that moment, she was _all_ vampire. She smelled of blood and arousal.

And him. His child. His beloved.

He wanted her more than he'd ever wanted anything.

He'd thought her to be magnificent as a human. Now he found her beyond words, so he compared her to the only thing he could think of that would come close: a Valkyrie.

And like the mythological being of old, she would likely be the harbinger of his death.

"But what a way to go," he whispered as he turned around and tried not to imagine her wet body.

Her singing—_badly_—in the shower didn't make it easy for him to imagine her not there.

But it did make him laugh.

And it gave him hope. Sookie might be vampire—_all vampire_—but she was still _all_ Sookie too.

"Thank the gods," Eric muttered.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Well? What did you think of Sookie's first feeding? I wanted to make it as much of a training session as anything else. I hated how **_**True Blood**_** just sent "new" vampires out into the world (like Tara & Willa) and never really showed how they learned to feed correctly and establish control. The only newborn vampire who made a mistake was Jessica, and that was an interesting moral dilemma for her (and us). (BTW: I loved the scenes between Pam and Jessica back then.) Generally speaking, I think **_**TB**_** dropped the ball when it came to dealing with newborn vamps, and I hated how TIIC made Bill the "maker of the year" by the end. He wasn't. He never was. **

**Anyway, soap-box put away. I hope that you liked my version of a first feeding. Kleannhouse thought that I should let Eric and Sookie have passionate, primal sex at the end of the chapter, and I almost wrote it that way. I was a paragraph into "vampire acrobatics" before I stopped myself. This Eric is a lot about giving Sookie choices and allowing her to learn the differences between desire and impulse. He loves her, and—frankly—after Sookie left both him and Bill at the end of Season 4, I don't blame him for wanting Sookie to ****choose**** him. Ironically, here, he's the one protecting his heart. I kind of like the thought of that. **

**Until the next chapter (which will likely be at least a week—sorry),**

**Kat**

**Don't forget to check out the artwork by Seph on my Wordpress: californiakat1564. wordpress. com**


	11. Chapter 11: Holding Pattern

**Chapter 11: Holding Pattern**

FOUR HOURS EARLIER

Bill had been wrapped in silver too goddamned much lately—first because of the necromancer and now because of Northman!

Another day spent awake in agony!

Another day sapped of all strength!

But that was nothing compared to the fact that the Viking bastard was keeping him from his child!

Bill moaned in pain. It was so difficult to feel Sookie through his agony, but he _could_ feel her. He chuckled darkly—almost insanely. Bill remembered Dallas, the night when Northman had tricked his blood into _his_ Sookie. Ever since that night, Sookie's feelings had been divided—muddled. Bill knew why. Oh—it wasn't because Eric had tried to unduly influence Sookie with his ancient blood, though Bill knew that she'd had dreams about the Viking. No—it was because she'd begun to suspect Bill of manipulating her with his blood that night.

Bill couldn't really blame Sookie. There had been _much_ that he'd held back from her—first out of duty to his queen and then out of fear that he'd lose his beloved.

But now things could be healed! Sookie was his child!

And, even though he could feel that she was Eric's child too—_more_ Eric's even—it didn't matter. Just as Eric had once taunted him with the fact that he was a part of Sookie, Bill could now do the same to the Viking.

With any luck, Eric would soon be dead. After all, he was lower on the political totem pole than Bill. And, though Nan was currently angry with Bill for some reason, she would soon remember his contributions to the mainstream movement. Eric was nothing more than a liability to mainstreaming—a thug.

At best.

And, with Eric gone, Bill would certainly be able to find a way back into Sookie's heart! She'd not be able to resist, after all, for he was her sire. Bill closed his eyes and imagined limitless possibilities. With Jessica, he'd been compelled to become a maker. He'd felt no connection to her—no pull to make her his child.

The opposite was true for Sookie. He'd wanted her from the first night he'd met her. She had been _his_. And—from that night on—he'd been trying to figure out how to take Sophie-Anne out of the equation. And then—even worse—Eric Northman had been introduced into it.

Bill had recently had the chance to kill Eric, but the king's practicality had won out. He knew that killing pathetic amnesiac Northman would have made Sookie hate him. And—if that had happened—then no amount of his blood would have been able to soften her heart again.

Vampire blood was capable of amplifying only existing emotions. That's why Bill had needed to wait to give Sookie more of his blood after she'd learned of his duplicity. But, as soon as she'd brought Northman to his home in order to offer their help with the necromancer, Bill had known that he "had" her.

It was ironic that—in sparing Eric's life—Bill had caused Sookie's heart to become softened toward him once more. Sadly, the price had been her further entanglement with the Viking.

A necessary evil.

Despite that, if Bill had all the money in the world, he would have bet every last penny that Sookie would have chosen him the night before—after she'd saved Eric and him from the witch's fire.

He would have lost, for she'd chosen _neither_ of them.

Bill had been able to feel her confusion as the generous amount of blood he'd given her amplified the affection she'd felt for him. Bill sighed through his pain. Having Sookie shot in the cemetery during the witch war had been a risk, but a necessary one. It had given him opportunity—and the chance to play hero—even as Eric had turned on them all as he'd succumbed to the necromancer's influence.

Who knew that Sookie would have the ability to bring Eric back to "himself" with her light? Bill couldn't help but to wonder what powers Sookie might have as a vampire. He couldn't wait to use them—for the benefit of _both_ Sookie and himself, of course.

Bill was certain that Sookie would come to see that all that he'd done had been to ensure that they could be together again.

Hell—he'd become a king to keep her safe! That had to count for something!

He'd contacted Nan to take care of the Sophie-Anne problem as a last-ditch effort to place himself above all of his potential enemies. Sadly, Northman hadn't done anything to merit the true death during the year that Sookie was gone. God knows that Bill had tried to provoke his sheriff into treason! Unfortunately, making a more overt play for Eric's life had become impossible following the night Bill pushed Eric into the cement. Bill knew that the Viking would never let down his guard again. But he had thought that the sheriff might do something that would allow Bill to get the Authority involved.

It turns out that Eric _did_—by getting himself cursed by the witch. But killing Eric then would have solidified Sookie's feelings of betrayal toward Bill. And—_that_—the king wouldn't have.

Had Pam just not been a meddling bitch with that rocket launcher, Bill could have killed Eric in front of the witch's coven. But—no! Northman's child had proven that she could be just as troublesome as her maker.

But that was nothing compared to what was happening now! Because of Northman, Bill was trapped in silver. The King of Louisiana moaned.

"Hurts—doesn't it?" Nigel asked.

Bill glared at the monster in the cell next to him. Not only had he been chained all night and all day, but he'd also had to listen to the twisted thoughts of a child eater, and—because of those thoughts—both of them had been subjected to some kind of ultraviolet light many times. The light wasn't quite as damaging as sunlight would have been, but it was fucking close—especially when compounded with the silver!

"Shut up!" Bill grunted.

"I remember when they used to use silver on me," Nigel continued almost nostalgically, even as he wiped the evidence of the bleeds from his ears. "But I started to _like_ it, so they stopped," he pouted a little. "Maybe you can start to like it too!"

Bill shook his head. The sick individual seemed to like to force himself to stay awake—in order, probably, to extend his pain.

"I said shut up!" Bill seethed. "Fucking masochist."

But Nigel didn't stay silent. For hours he droned on and on about how he'd come to like various kinds of torture, including having his skin peeled off before being forced into a vat of lye.

He told Bill that—as far as he knew—he was the only vampire ever to change in appearance because of torture. And he seemed quite proud of that fact.

Twisted freak!

But—the more Bill let himself listen to Nigel's words, the less pain he felt. And—eventually—Bill felt nightfall approaching. Moments after sundown, he felt something else: his child rising. Sookie seemed so far away, but the connection was there. He didn't have the strength to call her to him, but he _could_ feel her much more than before.

During the first hours of her rising, she felt so much: wonder, shame, guilt, anger, elation, horror, lust, revulsion.

But, most of all, she felt hunger.

Despite his silver, Bill grew hard—impossibly hard. He wanted her hunger to be for him. He wanted to fuck her as a vampire—to teach her that "soft" loving was no longer needed.

But there was nothing he could do about his "problem," except wait. Eventually, Sookie _would_ come to him. He knew it.

Or he would get out from the silver and call her to him.

* * *

><p>"Why would Nan bring them here?" Salome asked her confederate.<p>

"Compton is explained easily enough," Hyun-Ae commented. "Clearly, Compton has failed as King of Louisiana. And it seems likely that he planned Nan's demise. Pity he didn't succeed."

"Yes," Salome agreed. "_Quite_ the pity. But what of Northman? Why bring him here—and with a new child no less? If he were Compton's accomplice, he would be in silver too."

"The Viking is strong, and Roman is no fool. He will try to recruit Northman as an ally," Hyun-Ae mused.

"Then I will just have to recruit him _better_," Salome responded suggestively.

"Or, perhaps, Compton would be a better target," Hyun-Ae proposed. "It is rumored that he is pliable—easily manipulated. And my spy on Nan's boot-squad told me that there were some peculiarities in the making of Northman's child."

"What peculiarities?" Salome asked.

"Well—for one thing—she might not be the Viking's child. At least not fully. My spy picked up two scents from the child—Northman's and Compton's."

"Intriguing," Salome commented. "Perhaps I should speak with William Compton, but—first—you and I should make an appearance in the lounge. It would not do for us to seem to be separating ourselves."

Hyun-Ae nodded. "You go. I will follow after I have fed."

Salome leaned forward and gave her fellow Sanguinista a passionate kiss. "Our cause is true—and just. And we will _not_ fail."

"You have my loyalty," Hyun-Ae responded somewhat stiffly as she stood up.

"You do not believe in Lilith," Salome said matter-of-factly.

"I believe in her enough," Hyun-Ae responded.

Salome frowned, but then nodded. "I understand."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Sorry it's been a while since I had a chapter of this one ready. In addition to finals and the holidays taking my time, one of my cats also passed away. He had cancer, so we knew it was coming, but it's been a difficult time for me and my hubby. **

**I've been doing quite a bit of drafting work on _Inner_, and that one's going well. **

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter. This was out first glimpse into Bill's psyche (sorry Bill fans). And I wanted you to catch a glimpse of Salome too. **

**On a side note: did anyone else begin the series with ambivalent feelings about Bill, but then start to really, really dislike him around the time that the show's creators attempted to redeem him in such overt ways? It was just-sigh-annoying.**

**Until the next time,**

**Kat**

**P.S. Seph has made wonderful banners for this story, and I've "recast" the characters in the Authority. If you want, check it out on my blog: californiakat1564. wordpress. com.**


	12. Chapter 12: For the Next Month

**Chapter 12: For the Next Month**

Sookie had discovered something wonderful about taking a shower as a vampire. It had felt like a million fingers were lightly tickling her as the drops fell onto her skin. And then those tickles had become caresses as each drop streaked down her body. She'd stayed in the perfect oasis for two hours, discovering her vampire body in the seemingly endless warm rain.

She was cooler to the touch, even in the spray of the hot water.

But she was also so much softer. Her skin felt like some kind of expensive cloth. And she was much stronger too.

She could feel her muscles rippling under her soft skin. Years of waitressing had strengthened her shin and calf muscles, as well as her arms. Her muscles tingled as she thought about things she now knew she could do. She knew that—if she wanted—that she could punch a hole through the beautiful shower wall. She knew she could rush back into the bedroom and hit Eric, causing him to be pushed across the room. She knew these things with the instinct of a predator.

Somewhat reluctantly, she pushed those destructive impulses away. She focused instead upon each drop of water her eyes could take in. As a human, she would have called water, "clear." But as a vampire, she realized that it was anything but. It seemed to have a million muted shades of red, green, purple, gray, and white. And even more shades of blue.

She closed her eyes and recalled the blue she'd seen earlier—in Eric's eyes. His eyes made the water seem "clear" again, unvaried and plain. Like the eyes, the man himself was complicated—so fucking complicated.

As she had lain dying, she'd heard him remind Bill about her choice not to become a vampire. She'd heard Bill insist that she be turned. She'd trusted Eric to make sure that her wishes were upheld.

_Trusted_ him.

That was, she realized, why she was so angry at him. But she also realized that she shouldn't be mad at him. He—like her—had been rewarded few choices in the situation. Still—her anger wouldn't go away.

She took an unneeded breath.

Eric had said that being extra-emotional was a "newborn trait." And Sookie had _certainly_ seen such a thing with Jessica.

"Okay then," Sookie whispered, her voice sounding so much richer to her vampiric ears. "You hate that you were turned," she reasoned with herself, "but you _don't_ have to hate the time you are like this. One month," she said. Eric had promised that one month was all the time she'd have to be a vampire. "One month," she repeated, truly reconciling herself to the notion.

She turned off the water, only to discover that her flesh hadn't pruned at all. She smiled a little and wrapped a towel around her body before going out into the bedroom.

Lounging on the bed, Eric was reading a book.

"_Dubliners_?" Sookie asked, looking at the title.

Eric nodded. "One of my favorites. Short stories by James Joyce."

"I've never read it," Sookie said, "or anything else by him."

Eric smiled and threw her the book. With her new reflexes, she caught it effortlessly. "Try it later. Meanwhile, will you tell me what just pleased you?" he asked hopefully.

"What do you mean?"

Eric smiled and closed his eyes. "A maker can feel everything his child experiences—_if_ he wishes it. And I have been enjoying your discoveries, but you had a different sensation a moment ago. It wasn't about discovery; it was about," he paused, "acceptance. I would very much like to know what it was about."

"You could order me to tell you," she stated flatly.

"But I won't."

"My skin didn't prune—despite my long shower," she said after contemplating for a moment. "I think it was the first time I saw a real benefit to being like _this_ instead of a human."

Eric chuckled, but then his expression sobered. "Thank you—for telling me. Now—would you like to stay here or venture out?"

Sookie looked pensive. "I don't want to hurt anyone."

Eric nodded. "Then—let's make sure you are full." He went to the refrigerator and took out the last half bag of blood. He warmed as much as would fit in the glass and then handed it to her.

"This is real blood?" she asked.

"Yes. It is type B-positive."

"I love it," she sighed, taking a drink. "It tastes better than even the human blood—though I liked that better. How is that possible?"

"The experience of taking it from the source made it better," Eric explained, "but you like this flavor—or type—better. I am the same. So was Godric. So is Pamela."

"So—uh—B-positive is the bomb?"

Eric chuckled at her colloquialism. "Yes. Just wait till you drink it from the source."

"You purposely made sure the donors tonight _wouldn't_ be my favorite flavor?" she asked.

He shrugged. "I guessed. No one in our bloodline particularly likes A-positive. Of course, Bill being your co-maker of sorts was a potential complication to that theory."

She nodded in understand as she took another gulp.

"Right now you are drinking without your fangs down. You are feeding without truly 'eating,' so the experience is hollow in a way—despite the fact that this will fill you and the fact that it tastes good. When we feed from humans, the experience is more," he paused, "complete."

"What about TruBlood?"

Eric smirked and took two bottles out of the refrigerator. He warmed them. "These are B-positive, _supposedly_ like the flavor you are drinking."

He handed her a warmed bottle, and she took it like it was poisoned.

"You can smell the difference already—yes?" he asked with a chuckle, even as he took a drink of his own.

"It smells—uh—fake. Like plastic."

"Try it," he said, though he didn't make it a command.

She looked skeptical, but raised the TruBlood to her lips. Her nose crinkled with her first drink.

"Store-bought peaches," she muttered.

"Huh?" he asked.

She chuckled at his inelegant noise, but answered anyway. "My favorite food is—_was_—peaches. There are some peach trees at Gran's house."

"I know," he said. "One had been destroyed during the Maenad business, and I had a devil of a time finding one of similar size to transplant."

She looked at him carefully. "Why? Why did you do all that to my home? All the repairs? Why did you buy it in the first place?"

Eric closed his eyes. "_Feel_," he ordered, even as he opened up the maker-child bond fully and let Sookie into him in a way he'd yet to do—with _anyone_.

Including Pam.

And Godric.

Sookie gasped at the emotions she found in him—_the life_.

"You love me," she whispered after a few moments.

He chuckled. "Yes—but you knew that already."

"I didn't understand," she whimpered. "I don't think I can return _that_—what I feel from you. I don't even think I can understand it."

He chuckled louder. "Isn't it ironic that I once told you that_ I_ didn't know what love was?"

"You loved Godric," Sookie whispered. "You love Pam."

Eric nodded. "Yes. But it is not like this," he clarified, sending her his emotions again—this time with a purposefulness that would have taken her breath away 48 hours before.

She had to sit down on the bed due to the impact.

"This is new to me," Eric admitted. "And it is difficult to control," he added, as he pulled back his emotions before he hurt his child.

"_When_?" she asked.

"When what?"

"When did you start feeling that?"

"The moment I laid eyes on you is when it started. But it kept growing. It became more-less like this when you disappeared from this world last year. _That_ is why I bought your house. It was a place where I could let myself safely experience this feeling—this agony and ecstasy. Your home was what Dr. Phil might call an 'outlet.'"

"Dr. Phil?" Sookie asked incredulously.

"Even broken clocks are right twice a day," Eric said with a chuckle, before becoming more serious again. "Every inch of your home became a moment of history that I could share with you. Had there been a millimeter you'd not visited? Occupied?"

She shook her head. "No."

"I thought not. Thus, I made sure that every corner—every nook—was taken care of. And then I saw to the yard and property. There, I replaced whatever was needed—and I took the liberty of adding a few things too."

"What did you add?"

"I was told that the magnolia was a coveted bloom. And I have always liked weeping willow trees," he responded. "But the trees I added are still small—and back toward the line of the woods—in the corner of the backyard. You might not have seen them yet."

"I haven't."

"They could be taken out," he said somewhat stiffly, "if you find them not to your liking—if you decide to live on past the month." He shrugged. "Perhaps you will never see them—given the situation. But you were saying earlier? About the peach?" he asked, reminding her of their previous subject without letting her comment on the trees he'd added.

Sookie tilted her head to the side to look at him. "You are a complicated creature—aren't you?"

His eyes softened. "The peach?"

She relented. "Peaches from a tree taste amazing—sweet and juicy? But tart too. A perfect balance. And peach skin is so," she paused, "unique in texture, and it is delicious as well! I used to pick peaches from the trees and eat them till I was sick." She chuckled, but then frowned. "For grocery stores, peaches are picked unripe. Otherwise, their shelf-life would be very short. But peaches picked before they are ready never really ripen. They never develop their true flavor. That's what _this_ reminds me of," she said, lifting the TruBlood. It tastes bland—unripe."

"Yes," he sighed in agreement. "But—believe it or not—they _are_ getting better. The first of them tasted of horse-dung."

She smiled and laughed. "And you've tasted horse-dung? When?"

"You'd be surprised what can happen in a thousand years. And _that_ is nice to see," he said motioning toward her smile.

Her happy expression immediately dropped. "I've agreed to a month _only_, Eric. But after that, I'm not gonna stay like this. No offence, but being a vampire is not what I want to be. So—uh—it'll be your choice whether to keep those trees."

Eric said nothing, but his eyes lost a little of their light.

Sookie turned and went into the closet, where she found clothing that would fit her. Quickly, she dressed.

When she came back out, Eric was on his feet and by the door. His face was a mask. "Well—for your month, we will make the best of things. Why not—huh?" he asked.

"Why not," she responded.

"Good. I will try to do my best to make it a good month for you, Sookie."

She nodded. "I'm gonna trust you one last time—trust you to make sure I don't kill an innocent while I'm like this."

He nodded. "I promise you."

Sookie ignored the TruBlood and drank down the rest of the glass of real B-positive. "I can't believe how much I like this. It's so," she licked her lips, "gross to think that I'm drinking blood."

He chuckled.

"Do you feel up to meeting our hosts?"

Sookie sighed. "Okay. I think I need to see Bill, too. I need to know if he can command me like you can."

"Things would be less complicated if Bill just stayed in silver during your month," Eric said with a little smirk.

Sookie gave him a look. "Since when have I ever done anything the easy way?"

He chuckled. "Never."

* * *

><p>Sookie's nose seemed to be drawing her to the right, but Eric led her to the left when they reached a fork in the seemingly endless corridors that made up the Authority safe house.<p>

"What was that?" Sookie asked almost breathlessly.

"O-negative," Eric responded. "Would you like to try some later?"

"Yes!" Sookie answered enthusiastically before looking up at him. "Please."

Eric chuckled. "My _second_ favorite flavor—actually. I think you will like the spice of it. That is the difference between positive and negative—you see. Positive, at least for me, is likely the equivalent of good, old-fashioned salt and pepper for humans. With some blood—you want the spice only to augment. For other blood, you want a more complex spice—like a curry, I suppose. For me, O-positive is slightly bland, though perfectly adequate. However, I prefer it with a kick. O-neg has a kick."

"Do all vampire kids prefer the same kinds of blood as their makers?" Sookie asked.

"Actually, no," Eric said with a smirk. "Only _very_ strong vampires pass along that kind of taste."

"And you are sayin' that you are _very_ strong?" Sookie intoned.

"You tell me," he chuckled, "_after_ you have tried everything—of course."

In the next instant, Sookie's fangs went down.

"Vampires," she said, panting a little and pointed toward the end of the corridor.

"Yes," Eric agreed. "At least seven. They are the ones that we are going to meet."

Eric looked down at Sookie as she looked up at him.

"What you are feeling is quite natural," he said in a whisper. "But you needn't fear this meeting. I'll look after you. I swear it."

She nodded even as she nervously bit her lip, drawing blood.

He looked at the red liquid as if it were manna from heaven and went to kiss the wound before stopping himself.

"Lick your lip to seal your wound," he whispered. "You still smell very good—and your blood continues to carry some of what had marked it as part fairy before."

Sookie quickly obeyed.

"Now. Put your fangs away," he said.

"I don't know how," she responded.

"Use your mind, Sookie," he instructed. "Your willpower. I have said that you are safe, and safe you will remain tonight. Trust that."

"But what if the situation changes?" she asked pensively.

"Listen for this sound," he responded, his own fangs clicking downward. "If you hear it, then we are in danger, and you should fight alongside me. If you do not hear it, I want you to try to keep yours in your gums. Okay?" he smirked.

She nodded even as his fangs clicked upwards.

She raised and lowered her head several times as if trying to force her own fangs away.

"I can't do it," she said with frustration.

"I think of something disgusting—Svenna's horrid breath," he said.

"Svenna?" she asked.

"She was the first woman my father tried to match me with. She had rancid breath and about two teeth left. Thankfully, she died of consumption before the match could be settled upon."

Sookie snorted. "So I just have to think of something gross to get my fangs to go away?"

"It always worked for me," he smirked.

She closed her eyes, and soon there was a click as her fangs clicked upward.

She looked at him. "Don't ask."

"But I _must_ know," he said, his eyes piercing her.

"You said you wouldn't command me to do things," she reminded.

"I know, but I _must_ know!" he smirked. "What were you thinking about?"

She glared at him. "Bill."

"Bill?" he asked.

"He's got a pimple on his butt," she clarified. "I didn't think vampires were supposed to have such things."

"It's likely a scar from his human days," Eric responded, barely holding in his laughter.

"Well—it looks like a pimple, and it's kind of disgusting," Sookie returned.

They looked at each other—until neither of them could hold back their laughter.

Finally, Eric took her hand. "Are you ready, min dottir?"

"Daughter?" Sookie asked.

He nodded. "Yes. You are my mother, my sister, _and_ my daughter now."

She looked at him curiously. "How so?"

"It was a concept Godric taught me," he said with a faraway smile. "It is something he said that he always wanted to keep in mind—in order to be a good maker. Sometimes, it is _you_ who will teach me. Sometimes, it is_ I_ who will teach you. Sometimes, you and I will be equals. If we are open to all of these things, then the bond between us will not just be about blood. It will be about," he paused, "_more_."

"For the next month," she said.

"Yes. For the next month," he echoed.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'm not sure when I'll have the next chapter of this, but I'll keep it in mind. My drafting of **_**Inner**_** is going well right now, and I have a head of steam there. And one NEVER fights one's muse. ;)**

**Until next time,**

**Kat**


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